


The Wisp Sings

by plaidsuits



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Inspired by Dead by Daylight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:37:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidsuits/pseuds/plaidsuits
Summary: Eve Polastri and the rest of MI5 take a much needed work vacation to the Big Twelve Resort after a year of chasing an assassin, where amidst their relaxation, they meet another warm-blooded killer.ORThe Killing Eve Dead by Daylight Huntress AU. Kind of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Zero experience of playing Dead by Daylight (DBD) is required for you to read this fic. This story was inspired by a splash of tequila and picturing Villanelle in a flannel as lumberjack or as the huntress from DBD.
> 
> Big thank you to my discord family basement dwellers. Your support is forever encouraging.

The ice left over from the vodka cranberry swirls once, twice, and continues this cycle while Eve idly twists the glass in her fingers. She contemplates ordering a third, but the drinks are surprisingly strong. Her thoughts were already swimming, bouncing from one end of her head to the other. Niko sits beside her. There’s only two sips missing from his vodka cranberry. Eve suspects he doesn’t care much at all for the drink.

“The decor is nice,” says Niko. “It’s a lot nicer than I thought it’d be. You know, for a remote lodge.”

Eve nods. “Carolyn sure knows how to pick them.”

They were sitting in the communal building of the resort. Dark timber logs sit atop the cobblestone trim, which runs the length of the base around the outside of the lodge. Moss-green tiles slate the roof, sunbathed and faded. Large and open windows line the walls, revealing the ever-darkening evening and silhouette of the forest outside.

“When did the rest plan on arriving?”

“Should have been about an hour ago,” sighs Eve. “But their train could have been delayed. They might have missed their shuttle.”

“Shame if they don’t turn up at all.” Niko leans in to whisper in Eve’s ear, “We could have the whole evening to ourselves.”

Eve smirks for him. Niko deserves that much after she dragged him all the way out to this resort.

“Tell you what. Let me order one more of these,” Eve taps the empty glass. “Then maybe we can try wrestling into our room again. I think there’s someone new at the desk.”

Eve leans away from the bar and looks down the hallway toward the reception area. The reservation for their room was under Carolyn Martens. When Eve Polastri, who is not Carolyn Martens, tried producing her I.D. at the front desk, the large gentleman deadpanned.

“No Carolyn,” he said, his voice heavy with a Russian accent, “no keys.”

Eve ran a hand through her hair before marching away from the front desk towards the bar. Niko followed in tow, suitcases and all. That was two hours ago. 

Eve lifts her hand to grab the attention of the bartender. She taps the rim of her glass, and says, “Another vodka cranberry. Under the tab Polastri.”

The bartender nods and grabs a glass. The bar is one of full stock, with many different languages on the bottles, some wide and stout while others are slim and tall. Clear and dark liquors of all shapes and sizes are framed by a cherry glow.

“One of the blokes from your work is here.”

Eve snaps her head up, only to feel disappointment flood her body. Frank Haleton nods from across the bar. There’s a glass in front of him, clear with carbonation, and Eve doubts there’s any liquor in it at all. She is to wave or perhaps nod back, but the two vodka cranberries convince her to toss her head back and groan. Of course, it’s Frank. Out of all her coworkers to arrive promptly, it had to be Frank.

Niko waves for the both of them. 

A third beverage slides in front of Eve. She places the empty glass toward the edge of the bar and snatches the other.

“You may want to slow down.”

 _Don’t tell me what to do_ , is what she means to say. But it comes out as, “What? I’m just killing time before everyone arrives.”

“Yes and your liver.”

“Come on. We’re on vacation.”

“Yes and you hate being here.”

Eve fixes Niko with a glance. “Do you take pleasure in being right all the time?”

“Hardly. Students take away all the satisfaction in being right. But if you’re talking about us, then I’m only right about when you’re upset about work.”

“What makes you think I’m upset about work?”

Niko sighs before he chuckles. He crosses his arms against the bar while turning to look at Eve.

“Perhaps it was your reluctance to pack? Or how you said you didn’t want to go on this trip nearly every day two weeks beforehand?”

“What does that have to do with-”

“I know how important this is to you. Finding whoever is killing these people. I know that it’s eating you alive. You don’t want to be here. You’d much rather be in the office.”

“We’re just so close to figuring it out. There has to be a pattern to all of these kills.”

“I know, honeybunch. You’ll sort through it. You always do,” says Niko with a lack of enthusiasm. 

Eve’s brow furrows as her brain scrambles to find something to say. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here with you. This is also a great time for us to get away-”

Niko kisses her. Her eyes remain open for a moment in surprise before sliding shut. It lasts for mere seconds before he pulls away.

“Finish your drink. The party is here.” He nods toward the front, where the rest of MI5 shuffles in with their luggage. Niko rises from the stool, grabs their own bags, and smiles at Eve. It’s tight. The mirth doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’s already walking toward the front desk. “Don’t forget to close the tab,” he says over his shoulder.

Eve looks after him for a long time. Niko goes up to Bill, shaking his hand before bringing him into a bear hug. Elena waves to Eve, so she waves back. There’s Carolyn, Kenny, and Keiko even brought her baby. Making a trip with an infant sounds like the worst work vacation, Eve decides.

Eve slaps back the rest of her glass, only to shudder when it passes through her lips. She eyes the rest of Niko’s drink. It would be a waste just to leave it, but out of the perphilial of her vision, she sees Frank move toward her. She swallows the bile rising in her throat as his cologne catches her nose.

“You know we have a meeting tonight?” Frank asks. He peers through his glasses, eyes move up and down Eve disapprovingly. “Hardly professional.”

She licks her lips, the taste of the vodka faint on her skin. Her tongue clicks once before she says, “No, I did not know we had a meeting tonight.”

“Hm. You should read your emails. See you soon, Eve.”

Frank passes by and it takes everything in her being to not tell him to piss off. The vice grip on her glass relaxes as she considers finishing off Niko’s drink once again. She shakes her head though, curls bouncing about, before she stands and walks toward her coworkers.

Eve pauses, curses once to her herself, and twirls on the spot.

She did not forget to close the tab.

… 

The Big Twelve Resort surprisingly only had eleven cabins. MI5, coincidently, would take up only five of them. They were spacious and nice enough. It reminded Eve of her summers in Connecticut when her parents would drop her off at camp. Her thoughts were having trouble surfacing amidst the alcohol in her system, but memories of heavy timber forests, cozy cabins, and a sense of becoming lost amongst it all felt both nostalgic and familiar. 

She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in the large pillows of her bed. Eve did just that though as she sprawled unceremoniously on the mattress, face down in the sheets when they were finally allowed access into their rooms. Niko spoke gently to her, trying to coax her to come to the meeting, but it was Elena who all but dragged her there. Apparently, it was mandatory.

When they finally pried Eve off the bed, Niko raised his brows in question at Elena.

“Sometimes Eve just needs a firm hand is all,” Elena said. She then hooked her arm with Eve as they made their way to the community building of the resort. It housed the lobby and bar area where they had waited earlier in the evening. Apparently, there was also a small cafeteria, which they passed while making their way to the board room.

The large gentleman, who went by Konstantin, as Carolyn introduced him, was both an old friend and the owner of the resort. He had denied Eve access to their rooms earlier, but swept Carolyn into his arms with gusto. Carolyn had called him an arse and Eve could only agree. 

The mandatory meeting was led by Konstantin, who stands before MI5 giving them a presentation about the resort itself. Eve kicks her feet against the carpet, trying not to appear bored while ingesting knowledge of when the resort was founded and how long it’s been in the family. On the grounds, there was an axe throwing range, archery range, a laundromat, among other camp-like facilities.

“The woods are quite dangerous here,” says Konstantin. “There are paths for you to enjoy, but it’s strongly advised that you stay on them. We have a curfew here, too. It is encouraged that you all retire to your bedrooms before ten in the evening.”

“W-what’s,” begins Kenny. He looks to Elena then back to Konstantin. “What’s so dangerous about these woods?”

Konstantin smirks. “All things. You could get lost. You could drown. The wildlife is absolutely vicious.”

“And what does the wildlife consist of?” Elena asks.

“Bears, wolves, lynxes.” Konstantin counts off on one hand. “There is also big big Elk here.”

“Is it often that people are attacked by this wildlife?”

“Only as often as people wander off in places where they should not.”

“What’s with the shit curfew?” Eve isn’t particularly sure why she’s feeling so volatile, but as the question passes through her lips, several heads turn in her direction. Niko puts a hand on her knee, but she swivels her chair slightly to the right.

“It’s hard to shoot things in the dark, no?” Konstantin’s smile is tight. His teeth are brilliant and sit in two neat rows. When he raises his eyebrows, the wrinkles around his eye smooth out ever so slightly.

Eve sinks into her chair as Carolyn clears her throat.

“Thank you, Konstantin.” Carolyn’s voice is an authoritative whisper. The room stills at her calm demeanor. “We appreciate the courtesy you’re extending to our operation. We’ve had a long year and are looking forward to the opportunity of relaxing.” Carolyn gives a pointed look to Eve, who only sinks further in her chair. 

“Of course. Anything for an old friend.”

When they smile at one another, Eve wonders how long they’ve been old friends. Kenny wrinkles his forehead, and Eve feels a bit sorry for him. Having Carolyn for a mom would be a lot like having her as a boss: always seeking her approval, needing to be one step ahead, and learning a new truth about the enigma that was Carolyn Martens on every social outing. Unfortunately for Kenny, he had to deal with both.

Eve turns away from their simmering eye-contact to observe the rest of the room. Three long windows line the wall behind Konstantin, yet the wall opposite of that consists of a whiteboard and projector. A fireplace sits at the head of the room with a portrait of wildlife. As Eve squints, she can make out the thin lines that run between the puzzles pieces that make up the framed art print. 

“One last thing,” says Konstantin. “I must tell you all the myth born from these woods.”

Carolyn chuckles. “Oh, please. Not his old tale again. You’ll give my team nightmares.”

Konstantin grins like a child knowing he’s about to get away with something. “What? It is one tiny, harmless story.

“If you insist.”

The large man claps his hands together. He rubs his palms as he walks over to the fireplace, where he stands by the puzzle portrait before turning to address the rest of the room.

“There was once a boar who fell in love with a bear. The boar was a brute and ugly, who slobbered everywhere through his tusks. But the bear was kind and gentle. If you came to her homestead, she would give you honey in exchange for stories. The boar brought the bear flowers. No one knows why she said yes to the boar, but they became a couple.

“They lived happily in the woods, but it would not last long. The bear’s beauty was coveted. Hunters wanted her nice fur pelts, so they tracked her relentlessly. The boar and the bear had to hide, and over time her fur pelts lost its luster. And when the hunters found her, the boar did not even protect her because she was no longer beautiful. The hunters skinned her. They took the rest of her light, but not before she gave birth to a baby girl.

“When she was born, the bear gave the girl the head of a rabbit. She wore the head of the rabbit to hide her beauty that she inherited from the bear so the hunters would not find her. And when she was older, she received an axe from the boar. The woods were her playground and the wolves her playmates. She was every bit as feral as she was human. The boar, however, was not as kind and gentle as the bear. When he disciplined her, it left bruises on her fair skin because she did not have fur to protect from his blows.

“But the boar, despite his brutish behavior, taught her many things. He taught her how to hunt, to fish, to be silent when stalking prey. Their favorite prey to hunt was Maksim the Great Elk, who had a big crown of horns. Maksim was the boar’s adversary, challenging him for the rights to the forest. The boar was relentless, but Maksim was elusive, only showing himself when he wanted to. The boar would drag the girl along on the hunts, but she was never safe when the two came to blows.

“One fateful day, Maksim revealed himself to the girl, but not to the boar. He asked her to stay quiet, so she hid under the brush. Maksim charged at the boar then, spearing the boar on the prongs of his horns. He wore his blood like war paint in victory. Maksim expressed his gratitude to the girl, but it was a miscalculation that day for him to let her live, for she grew big and strong.

“The girl became the rival to Maksim, fighting for dominance of the forest. She wore the head of a rabbit and took on the mantle of the Huntress. Without the bear and the boar, the Huntress grew up alone and without human companionship. She spoke with growls and marched over the cold forest floor with bare feet. She took the boar’s axe in order to hunt Maksim, and they began a dance once again. For years, Maksim evaded her, but she was not as simple as the boar was. Her cleverness cost Maksim his ear and he would never make the same mistake again.

“Maksim went into hiding, so the Huntress bides her time by hunting people instead. For her, those kills are far more intimate because humans bleed their weaknesses. Her beady eyes need only flit over her prey once before she knows exactly how to kill them. She does not have to be as quiet when she hunts humans, so she hums the lullaby that the bear taught her. She sharpens her skills with every hunt, preparing every day for when she comes face-to-face with Maksim, once again.”

There’s a pregnant silence in the room. Eve’s mouth is slightly agape and she looks to Bill. He wears much of the same expression.

When the silence is broken, it’s done by the awkward and brave Kenny.

“So this Huntress,” says Kenny. “She’s a fairy tale? Sort of a myth then?”

Konstantin shrugs. “Kind of. It’s a story we tell the guests when they arrive. My wife tells it much better. It helps sets the tone for the stay here.” The large man moves to peer out the window into the darkness. “It also encourages people to stay on the clearly marked paths.”

“And my team will do so,” says Carolyn in a rather chirper voice. “They’re a smart bunch.”

“For their sake, I hope so.”

…

The gray of the morning greets Eve when her eyes creak open. A trail of fuzziness runs up her arm before she feels thousands of needles penetrate her skin. She groans as she rolls out of bed and shakes out the numbness in her limb. There’s also a fuzziness that hangs over her head like a fog. Her mouth is dry and she’s groggy, but at least she’s not hungover.

Her bare feet skim over the cool wood floor as she makes her way to the bathroom. Niko’s snores ricochet off the pillow behind her. While retreating to the solitude of her morning routine, Eve searches through her thoughts for a time when she considered Niko’s snores endearing. Amidst the fogginess, those memories seem farther and farther away.

She ties her hair back, washes her face, and brushes her teeth. When Eve feels a bit more human, she exits the bathroom and sees Niko has rolled over so his back is facing her now. She sighs as she considers him, but rather than waking him up she just gets ready for her day.

The cabins at the resort were fairly spread out. Six cabins made a the shape of a U, surrounding a large field of trees and the community building resides at the mouth of the U. The other five cabins were nestled further into the woods. Eve could not see said building when exiting her cabin, but the three minute walk there allows her to collect her thoughts before the day.

The past year had been made up with more failures than successes. MI5 and MI6 united under Carolyn to track down an assassin who had been working internationally for what she believed had been three years. Eve was attracted to the job prospect when Carolyn presented it to her, for she had a certain fascination with murder and how assassins do what they do. Eve’s cleverness proved to be resourceful when she commented on the killer’s style. It landed her the job on the spot. 

Many sleepless nights, declarations of frustrations, and coffee cups later, the team was at their wits end. They were no closer to the killer than when they started. Carolyn decided for them that they were taking a vacation to the remote Russian wilderness, which Eve considered a joke. But Carolyn doesn’t have a humorous bone in her body. Flights were booked and calendar space was penciled out. She could not fathom the expenses of the trip, but imagined that Konstantin had something to do with how affordable it was for the lot of them.

Work vacation, including spouses and children, hardly seemed like the ideal scenario for anyone, let alone Eve. She wanted nothing more than to stay back in London in order to work on the case, but Caroyln said she needed this trip the most. Whatever that was supposed to mean. Niko appeared relieved in tandem with being on edge at the idea of this vacation. 

“Are you sure you want me to go?” Niko asked.

“Of course I want you to go. Why wouldn’t I want you to come?”

Eve releases a slow, even breath as she twists her wedding ring. The walk to the community center is quiet and contemplative. The overcast starts to break above, spots of blue sky poking through among the clouds. She reaches the dark timber building and her sneakers thud against the steps up to the door.

Once inside, she sees a bald man in a trench coat speaking quietly to Konstantin at the front desk.

“I am sorry- What was your name? Anton?” Konstantin clarifies. “Well, Mr. Anton Zykov, it is too early for you to check into your room. Cabin six is still in need of cleaning. I don’t know how you got a cab from town out here so early.”

“Good fortune, I suppose. How long will it take until my room is ready?”

“An hour? Maybe two? Best if you maybe waited in town.”

“That’s alright. I can just become well acquainted with your breakfast bar, hm?” Anton rasps his knuckles twice against the front desk and Eve can see the rings on his fingers. When he twirls on the spot, his gaze lands on her. 

“Good morning, darling,” greets Anton. He saunters past her, rolling his luggage behind him.

The man’s appearance makes her wish the bar was open, but when she looks in its direction she sees that the cherry lights are off. The bottles appear dull in the morning.

When she walks past Konstantin, he gives her a knowing smile.

“Yes, good morning darling,” says Konstantin, his tone mocking Anton.

“Don’t.”

Eve hastily retreats into the cafeteria. Linoleum floors framed by white-blocked walls greet her. There are paintings on the walls of wildlife, not professionally done, that remind her precisely of summer camp. Posters hang over them, many of which she can’t read. The smell of sausages and eggs beckons Eve to the breakfast bar. 

Eve idles by the posters, eyes flicking restlessly over the text. They appear to be about safety or a set of rules. A generous portion of the wall also holds faded photos of previous campers. Out of the corner of her eye, she notes Anton walking away with a tray in hand. Once he’s a respectable distance away, she closes in on the food. Her modest plate includes fried eggs, sliced sausages, and rye toast. Instead of finding a seat in the cafeteria, Eve marches out into the hallway and makes her way to the boardroom.

From her pocket, she pulls out the key card and slides it through the electronic scanner to get access into the room. Admittedly, the spaces within the community center seemed more on the end of high-tech. Kenny paled when Konstantin handed out metal keys for their cabins instead of plastic cards. They were cut off from most day-to-day luxuries: decent wi-fi, cellular service, good plumbing.

She set her plate on the edge of the large table and went to work. MI5 deposited boxes of their case files the previous evening when they had the mandatory meeting with Konstantin. Eve lifts the lid and gingerly places it to the side. Files, photos, and tape collect in her hand as she begins to spin her web. Little under a half hour passes before she has half the wall layered with the past year of MI5’s work.

She chews thoughtfully on her rye toast as she considers the threads that connect the photos.

There’s a click of the door unlocking behind her and she sees a balding head of someone she actually enjoys.

“There you are, you scoundrel,” says Bill. He uncharacteristically wears sweats and a t-shirt. Eve does a double take. “What are you doing? You’re not suppose to be in here.”

“What am I doing? What are you doing? What are you wearing?”

“Don’t dodge the question. You’ll be in big trouble if Carolyn finds you in here.”

“Oh piss off,” says Eve softly. “I just wanted to get a head start. If I get some work done now, I can be present for our ‘recreational staff bonding.’” Her voice drops an octave as she brings her hands up to make quotations.

“That’s a load if I’ve ever heard one. You’re never one to pay attention, whether there is or isn’t work to be done.”

Eve scoffs and she fights a smile at her lips. “You’re ornery this morning.”

“Sorry. It’s the baby. Can’t sleep a wink for more than three, four hours at a time. I was up with her a majority of the night. Keiko was having nightmares.”

“Nightmares? About what?”

“About that bloody huntress bullshit the one bloke told us about last night. She swore she heard the humming of the lullaby.”

“Oh. Oh, jesus. Yeah, that was weird. Konstantin? He’s kind of a weird guy. Do you know how he knows Carolyn?”

This time Bill raises his fingers in air quotations.

“They’re ‘old friends.’”

Eve snorts and nudges Bill in the shoulder. 

“I’m so glad you’re here to keep me sane. I swear I’d be losing my mind if I didn’t have you here.”

They both relax against the table behind them. Eve picks through the rest of her breakfast while Bill admires her handiwork. He flicks his wrist to check his watch.

“Are you every bit as excited for axe throwing today as I am?”

“What the fuck is axe throwing?”

…

Wood chips crunch under feet as MI5 shuffles toward the axe throwing range. A large timber wall, standing a head taller than Konstantin, lines the back of the area. Makeshift targets made of tree stumps hang from the peeled wood logs. A thin line of red spray paint acts as the throwing line. The same spray paint that circles the inside of the targets.

Konstantin ambles towards a thin metal shack, no bigger than an outhouse. Keys jingle in his hand as he twists one through the lock on the door. It springs open to reveal five rows of neat and pristine axes. They’re far nicer than Eve anticipated them being. Konstantin slides one out to display to the rest of the group.

“Axe throwing, like any sport, has the potential to be fun, but also dangerous.”

Eve files the phrase ‘long-winded’ underneath arse and balding, for words she would use to describe Konstantin. He instructs the group on proper axe throwing etiquette and technique, but her ears seal off as a mass of tension slithers from her head down her spine. Her back tightens and she rolls her neck a few times, holding a gaze to him like a candle flickering out. Her eyes dart around the group, but she finds it particularly difficult to look anywhere in Carolyn's direction because she is the reason they’re on this silly trip.

And god, she can’t look anywhere remotely close to Niko because he’s enjoying this. The smile on his face radiates too much excitement, too much of anything compared to what Eve is used to seeing.

Her hand snakes up into her hair and undoes the bun. Her fingers claws their way through the black curls, running her nails over her scalp several times. She draws in shallow breaths. She’s lightheaded. A scream dies on the inside of her throat, so she resorts to shouting internally as her co-workers step up to the red line with axes in hand.

There is a wide scale, international murderer on the loose. Professionally killing people. And her staff was killing time and any possible leads by partaking in recreational camp-like activities.

Eve wishes she had vodka.

“Come on you,” says Bill. “Let’s give it a shot.”

For once, Eve considers impaling Bill with the axe he just handed her, but instead her body is guided numbly to the throwing line. She stands motionless and watches Bill go into a slight squat, brings the axe above his head, and launch it at the target. The axe makes the outer ring and Bill emits a tone of pleasant surprise.

“Something wrong here?”

Eve turns to Konstantin on her left. He rests his hands on his hips while looking at her expectantly.

“Could you,” Eve mumbles, hardly able to believe what she’s about to ask. “Could you show me the technique, once more?”

“Of course.”

Konstantin grabs another axe from the shed and saunters back over to Eve. She can feel the eyes of her coworkers, but she tries to roll out the tension by stretching her neck.

“You must keep one foot planted behind the line, like this. You can go over the line when you step forward and throw, but only one foot goes forward.”

Eve mimics stepping forward with him, but she also feels her soul sink deeper into her stomach.

“Hold the base with both hands and brings above your head. When you go to throw the axe, follow through with your arms. Do not stop short. Do not blink. Look at your target just above the head of the axe and that helps to align with where you will want it to land. Does that make sense?”

 _No._ “Yes.”

“Good, here watch.”

Konstantin goes into the same slight squat as Bill did, bringing his arms above his head, and in one fluid motion releases the axe. It buries itself in the center of the target and Eve can feel all the air squeeze out of her lungs. This is ridiculous. This is the most ridiculous thing she has ever done for work.

Konstantin looks expantantly at her once more and Eve sighs.

“No? Do I need to show you once more?” He asks. He doesn’t wait to respond as he shuffles toward the targets. “And Carolyn said you were a sharp bunch. Not as sharp as these axes, eh?”

Eve inhales. She grips the handle of the axe in both hands and flings it overhead. She doesn’t mean to blink, but she does and she’s not aiming for anywhere in particular. The axe goes to the wayside, narrowly missing the back of Konstantin. The blade embeds itself in the log wall behind the targets.

Konstantin spins and his eyes are alight with fury.

“Don’t do that,” he bellows. “Do not throw an axe when a person is retrieving from the targets, especially when they’re back is turned to you.”

Eve feels as if she’s being scolded by a parent. The muscles in her back tighten and she finds it hard to breathe. She feels exposed before her coworkers, refusing to make eye contact with them when she goes to retrieve her own axe.

There’s a shuffling behind her and she turns her head a fraction to see Niko approaching the targets with her. He wears a well intended, good nurturing husband face that causes Eve’s stomach to roll over.

“Oh, jesus,” she mumbles.

Upon a closer look, Eve can see the blade has wedged itself between two logs. When she goes to pull it, it doesn’t budge.

“Everything okay?” Niko asks behind her.

“Yep. Just fine, thank you.” She pulls harder on the handle.

“Are you sure? You just seem a bit on edge. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine, Niko. I just need this stupid axe to-”

“Do you need help with that?”

“No!” 

Eve growls as she gives one final heave and the blade comes free. She loses her balance a bit. The axe flies back and bounces off something behind her. She hears Niko groan. When she turns, her husband clutches his face with both hands and blood seeps from between his fingers.

“Christ, Eve.” Niko doubles over. Crimson drips freely from his face and onto the wood chips below.

“Oh, Niko. Niko. Niko. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Here,” says Eve. The axe drops to the ground. She undoes the buttons on her blouse and is thankful she wore a tank top underneath. She comes up to Niko tentatively and presses the fabric against his nose.

There are tears in his eyes that refuse to fall.

“That’s your nice blouse.”

“I know. I know.”

“It’s your favorite. You wear it all the time.”

“Just stop talking for two seconds.”

The crunching of wood chips becomes apparent once more as Konstantin and Bill approach.

“You okay, mate?” Bill asks.

Niko’s head tilts up and he holds very still for Eve, but he nods just a fraction.

“So you are the accident prone one of the group?” Konstantin asks. “I will have to keep my eye on you.”

Eve wishes she hit Konstantin in the back rather than Niko’s face. Her husband leans slightly away and brings his fingers up to gently graze his nose. There’s an odd ruddy twinge to his mustache where the blood fell.

“I think it’s stopped,” says Niko.

Eve pulls the crumpled, scarlet stained blouse away and lets her hands fall to her side.

“I think,” Eve says slowly, “ I am finished with axe throwing for today. I am going to popover to the laundromat before the stain sets.”

Eve does not wait for the protest of her husband or the rest of her team. She marches away from the group, not quite feeling how her feet connect with the ground. She feels like she’s floating. The altitude of her thoughts makes her feel lightheaded once again. She’s thankful though that no one chooses to follow her. Eve does not know how much more of people she can do today.

The laundromat is a surprising gem among the facilities at the resort. It feels as if it’s been plucked out of some suburban area in the nineties and thrust into the remote wilderness. Eve pulls open the glass door and shuffles in absently. It’s once she’s inside, under the hazy lights, does she realize she has nothing to wash out the stain in her blouse.

There’s another person inside. They stuff clothes into something that resembles a large cream duffle bag. They pause upon Eve’s entrance.

_I must be a sight _, Eve thinks. Her hair unbound. Blood staining her fingers and the shirt in her hands. In nothing but a tank top and slacks in front of this stranger. Jesus, her work vacation could not get any worse.__

____

____

The stranger peeks their head up from the dryer and Eve crashes back to earth. The woman before her gorgeous, her skin glowing and eyes wide. She closes the drier slowly as if not to startle the Eve and gathers her laundry bag over one shoulder.

The woman wears crisp, denim suspenders with a bright lemon shirt. There’s an image of a potted cactus centered just over her sternum. Her hair is in a low ponytail and it’s hard to make out in the light, but Eve believes it to be a honey blond. They stand there for what feels like ages.

Eve edges back into her senses, although she feels as if she’s in some stark twilight zone, in the middle of a wood, in a laundromat, with this woman whose eyes are far too wide and face vacant of any emotion. There’s a shine to them and Eve wonders if she’s about to cry.

Eve speaks first.

“Are you alright?” She ventures

The woman’s eyes jump up and down Eve’s form, resting briefly on her hair. Her lips quirk up slightly. 

“Are _you_ alright?”

Eve looks down at her tank top and remembers the bloody fabric balled in her fist.

“You should see the other guy.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“You should see the other guy.”_

The sentence is out of her mouth before she can stop it. It’s hard to focus on anything else while under the gaze of this woman, but Eve swears the hazy lights above flicker once, the universe scolding her for her lame attempt to impress. Out of all the things she could say to this stranger, she picks the sentence that makes her look like more of a whack job. Eve wishes the universe would just swallow her whole.

The woman continues to wear a blank expression, but the look in her eyes is calculating. Her solution must come to her rather quickly because her face breaks into a wide smile, almost too wide.

She gingerly sets the laundry duffel on the ground and strolls over to a metal cabinet. Her movements are one fluid motion, and Eve has a hard time looking anywhere else. Despite turning her back to fiddle with the insides of the cabinet, the woman holds Eve’s gaze. Her mission of whatever she is retrieving from the cabinet can be accomplished while also keeping tabs on Eve. She knows exactly what item she needs, for she lifts a plastic box from the shelf and from it, plucks out a bottle of pills and a plastic cup.

She approaches Eve slowly and holds out her hand. For some reason, Eve can’t quite get her mouth to work. Eve lifts her arm to deposit the soiled garment in the woman’s palm, who doesn’t seem bothered to any degree by the blood at all. She waltzes behind Eve to the large compartment sink, where she runs cold water in the basin. She spreads the blouse underneath the stream and swivels the garment under the water evenly. 

The woman folds the shirt over the faucet head then grabs the bottle of pills. She sprinkles them on the counter and slides a metal bracelet off of her wrist, which she uses to crush the grainy capsules against the counter top. She sweeps the powder into the plastic cup, adds a splash of water from the faucet, and begins to twist the cup in her fingers. She glides back to the cabinet where she sets the pills back in its box on the shelf and then pulls a spoon from that same spot. She mixes the concoction in the hand as she walks back to the shirt.

Eve drinks in every single one of her movements. Languid. Disciplined. Extraordinary. Eve can’t take in enough of her.

The woman spreads the blouse on the counter and spoons out the mixture over the areas of the stain. Satisfied with her work, she washes out the cup and spoon, placing them back in the cabinet, and finally returns to her cream duffel bag, where she pulls open the strings and fishes around for something. When she rises to her full height again, she holds out a green cardigan sweater.

Eve opens her mouth, yet nothing smart comes out.

The woman cocks her head to one side.

“I gave my husband a bloody nose,” says Eve, as if she’s been holding her breath the whole time.

This time the woman lets out a brief chuckle. Eve adores her teeth and the slight wrinkles around her eyes, and desperately wishes she could make her laugh again.

“So he is the other guy in this situation?”

Eve can’t quite place her accent. It feels like it’s in between many languages and it turns over and over in her head.

“I suppose so.” Her words are like syrup out of her mouth. “Yes.”

The woman ingests the sentence like news from the morning paper; there’s a pleasant rise in her eyebrows and she nods once, before advancing toward Eve. She comes behind her with the sweater. Thankfully, Eve has gained enough control of her body back that she’s able to move her limbs accordingly when she feels the sleeves slide up one arm and then the other. The woman’s warm breath is on her neck and perhaps Eve will simply pass out because that seems like the best solution in this moment.

But the sensation is gone as soon is it came. The woman retrieves her laundry, slinging the bag over her shoulder once more, and saunters toward the exit.

“You will want to let that sit for another fifteen minutes. Then run it through a cold wash.”

The woman holds open the glass door, standing half outside and half in the laundromat. Eve stares because apparently that’s the only thing she knows how to do.

“And your hair is amazing.”

Then she’s gone. Eve stands rigid for what feels like years. The feeling of warm wool against her skin draws her back to reality, grounding the experience as real. The sweater is real, therefore so is this moment. Instead of attending to her blouse, Eve shuffles toward the door and peeks her head out. There is a wide expanse of lush, green forest awaiting Eve’s gaze, but the anomaly of the woman is gone.

Eve reluctantly returns to her shirt, soaking in the paste. Her mind runs through their interactions several times over. She thinks of her mouth, of her hair, of her crisp suspenders. The yellow cactus shirt.

A puzzling thought, however, finally catches up with Eve.

The woman’s feet were bare.  
… 

“Did you know that loads of people have died here?”

It was well into the afternoon. Eve spent most of her lunch hour at the laundromat, waiting for her blouse to dry up. The pills used in the paste were aspirin, which Eve found out after she snooped but found nothing remotely interesting in the cabinets afterward. And sure enough, when she pulled the fabric from the dyer, there was no trace of blood on it. She then participated in a daily meditation, which for Eve was pacing restlessly back and forth over the white tiles to collect her thoughts. She had trouble focussing on anything particular, but she was able to zero in on an exposed nerve, which was the judgement she felt from her coworkers and husband. It was almost palpable. 

Crazy. She felt a little crazy, or perhaps, off her rocker, which was no fault of her own but rather the fault of how all of her coworkers seemed to approach this trip with such a laissez-faire attitude. Eve was under the impression that this was still a _work_ vacation, which did require, in the very least, a minute amount of work.

Work vacations require work. It was the silver lining, the epiphany she had under the hazy lights in the laundromat. A swell of laughter traveled from her chest and slipped out of her lips at the realization; she almost sounded as if she was in hysterics before she quieted into a sigh. 

The second realization, which came to her unaccompanied by laughter, was if she wanted to survive this trip, she might have to change her expectations for her coworkers. An unbearable compromise. One she would have to think through.

She’s still mulling over this compromise when she unlocks the door to the boardroom with the access card.

“Hello, earth to Eve. You all there, love?”

Eve snaps to attention upon seeing Elena’s hand wave in front of her.

“You gave us a bit of a scare earlier. Are you alright now?” Elena asks.

“Yeah, just peachy,” says Eve quickly. She didn’t mean for it to come out as it did and when Elena fixes her with a look, Eve amends, “I’m fine. Really. I had a moment to myself while at the laundromat. I feel loads better. I also checked in with Niko and he’s good. A little bruised, but good.”

“You’re going to give him two shiners. He’ll have a black eye on each side by morning.”

“Oh, Jesus. I didn’t hit him that hard, did I?”

Elena winces and bares her teeth. She holds up her forefinger and thumb, while saying, “You did a little bit. It looks like you did a good number on him.”

Eve was ready to forget the whole ordeal entirely, but it would be difficult to do if she had to stare at purple bruises beneath Niko’s eyes.

“Is that new? Green is a nice color on you.”

Eve’s mind plays catch up and her eyes snap down to the cardigan sweater. She feels a phantom breath on her neck and a shiver travels down her spine. 

“It is,” she answers after a long moment.

“O-kay,” Elena elongates the ‘o’ while giving Eve another once over. “Well, it looks nice on you. What were you saying Kenny?”

“Loads of people have died here,” he says, not glancing up from his screen “Hi, Eve.”

“Uh, hi, Kenny. What are you two doing?”

In her absence, Kenny's technological den has been constructed on the far side of the room by the fireplace. Wires and monitors and all things Eve has no patience for are strewn about. 

Kenny sits behind his monitor, his face illuminated by the screen's brightness. Eve shuffles gingerly throughout the room, over the wires, to come stand beside Elena and Kenny. He scrolls slowly through a databank housing a collection of photos and clippings of deaths at the Big Twelve Resort. 

“A lot of them are natural causes. People drowning, animal attacks, trees falling. One woman had a severe asthma attack while smelling some flowers.”

“Huh,” says Eve. “That's kind of ominous.”

“If you do a basic search though, over half of these stories aren't even published online. The most damaging thing you'll find is a one star review on Yelp about cabin towels.”

“It's little freaky,” Elena admits. “Makes me think one of us is going to get offed before the end of this trip.”

This time Eve gives Elena an incredulous look.

“What? This whole place has murderous vibes, don’tcha think?”

“I think,” says Eve. “I think we should focus on the murderer we’re tracking instead of making them up in our head.”

Elena lets out a hoot of laughter. “You? The Eve Polastri doesn’t want to look into this? Oh, you’re in denial, babe. I can see the curiosity burning in your eyes. You’ll be breaking into the office before the end of the week.”

Eve clenches her jaw and rolls her eyes.

“I’m a bit curious,” Eve admits quietly. “But I don’t know when I will find the time to look into it, especially with all of our staff bonding.”

“Who says staff bonding isn’t breaking and entering?”

“Are you sure _you’re_ not really into this?” Eve asks.

“I am simply following your example, madam.”

Eve chuckles and pulls up a chair to sit beside Kenny. Elena perches herself on the arm of his chair, while he continues to scroll through files.

“Hey Kenny,” says Eve.

He hums in response.

“Would you be able to forge an access card to get into the office?” Eve winks at Elena.

“Absolutely.”

“Great. Thanks.” 

Breaking and entering is the best idea for staff bonding that Eve has heard the entire time she’s been on this trip.

…

It’s early the next day when Eve laces her shoes while sitting on the steps leading up to the cabin. The overcast is more pronounced, the clouds heavier, the air darker than it was the previous day. She wonders if her jacket will suffice. She also wonders if they should go on a hike at all, but their brief stay at the resort only offers so many opportunities for a hike and Bill was dead set on going.

Eve pauses, holding the strings of her shoes in hand, and looks up. The forest before her is quiet, but an eerie feeling caresses the back of her head, right behind her ear, before fleeing. And she does not have long to dwell on it because Bill bounds down the gravel path toward her. Sweats, t-shirt, and a small pack. Eve can’t quite get used to the casualness of seeing her coworker out of the office, but she puts the feeling aside.

“Ready for the morning jaunt?” Bill asks.

“Does it have to be this early?”

“Come on! We have to seize the day and enjoy all that nature can give us.”

“We can also enjoy what nature has to give us in two hours?”

“Stop it. We have a big trek ahead of us and if we get to it, we’ll be back in time for lunch. Did you have breakfast?”

“I had a granola bar.”

Bill raises his eyebrows before shaking his head. “You’re lucky I’m a father. I brought snacks.”

Eve smiles and stands to join Bill’s casual gait. They follow the path that leads deeper into the woods, past both the axe throwing range and the laundromat. Eve’s head turns to follow the building, peering inside the glass windows and looks for no particular blonde stranger before turning back to the gravel path ahead.

Eve stills. Anton power-walks towards the both of them, his hips swiveling in such a way where Eve wonders if he’ll need surgery later in life. He wears leggings, a sweatband, and carries two small weights in his hand.

“Good morning darlings,” says Anton when he passes them both, heading back towards the cabins.

“Who was that?”

“I have no idea,” says Eve. “And frankly, I don’t really want to know.”

Eve slides her hands into the pockets of her rain jacket and her fingers brush against a folded paper. She pulls it out with little recollection of putting something in her pocket to begin with. She recognizes it as the map Niko gave her yesterday. He must have put it in her pocket, so she wouldn’t forget.

Eve’s throat tightens.

“What do you got there?”

“It’s a map of trails in the area. Niko got it for me last evening from the office.”

“That was nice of him.”

“Yeah.”

Gravel crunches underfoot. The stillness of the forest is quaint, interrupted only by the chirping of birds or the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves. The trees' impressive heights overshadow them and block out what little sunlight hangs in the sky. The foliage, from the carpet of moss to the gnarled roots to the lush leaves, paint the woods in both a vibrant emerald and cedar brown despite the gloom above.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Eve peers up from the map in her hands.

“Talk about what?”

“Oh, you know. Trivial things. Work. Homelife. Marriage. Niko.”

“Niko?”

Bill sighs. He bobs his head from one side to the other as if he’s shaking his thoughts loose. 

“I don’t mean to pry, but things seem a bit off between you two. Not just on this trip, but before we left too. Are you getting on well?”

“He’s really good,” says Eve. “He’s well and getting along well. I am, too.”

They approach a fork in the road. According to Eve’s map, to the right is the road to the family cabins for the Big Twelve Resort, while to the left is the road to the nature trails. True to Konstantin’s word, the paths are marked by clear and concise signs. They travel to the left.

When Bill speaks again, his voice is somber and low.

“Eve. It’s one thing to call you on your bullshit at work, it’s another to call you on your bullshit in your marriage.”

Her throat constricts tighter.

“He, uh,” croaks Eve, her voice suddenly hoarse and without her permission. “He, um. . .”

“Come on. Spit it out.”

“He wants to get a divorce. I mean, I think he wants to get a divorce. He didn’t actually say that. I saw his search history on our office computer, or rather my office computer. He just searched it in google ‘how to divorce your wife’ and despite the fact he works with kids, he doesn’t know how to delete his search history. I’m fine though.”

Eve’s eyes sting without her permission, too.

“Oh. That’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but I’m fine. We’re fine. He hasn’t brought it up yet. I figured we could use this trip to, you know, rekindle.”

Bill nods, eyebrows slightly raised. “Any romantic gestures so far?”

Eve thinks about her time at the laundromat. “I washed his shirt?”

“After you gave him a bloody nose,” Bill nearly shouts. “That’s hardly romantic, Eve.” 

“I didn’t mean to. He shouldn’t have come up behind me. Also, what were we doing there to begin with? Are we going to just ignore the fact that there is a murderer on the loose, killing people by the week, sometimes more?” Now Eve is shouting.

Bill releases a heavy breath, whether that be from the conversation or the gradual incline they climbed, is left to be decided.

“You don’t think,” says Bill slowly, “that perhaps you are a little too fixated on work as of late?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Eve snaps, a little breathless too.

“Why must you be so difficult? I’m already feeling fragile and getting you to talk about things is a lot like pulling teeth.”

“Why are you feeling fragile?”

“Keiko hasn’t slept a wink since being here. We switched rooms with Frank last evening because she did not like the ambience in our cabin. But that’s beside the point. We’re talking about you and your marriage.”

“Yes, but we don’t have to talk about my marriage.”

Bill raises both his hands. “Fine. Fine. But don’t say I didn’t try. Personally, I am rooting for the both of you. It’d be a shame if he went through with it. You’re brilliant.”

“Are you saying you fancy me, Bill?”

“Of course I fancy you. Who wouldn’t?”

Eve scoffs at that, but does feel a bit lighter.

“I mean you are a bit of a nutter,” continues Bill. “But brilliant nonetheless.”

“You have such a way with words. Is that how you also compliment Keiko?”

Bill ponders for a moment. Sweat dots his eyebrow when they reach the top of sloped path. 

“No. Complimenting her is lot like saying, ‘Wow, that spit up really brings out your eyes,’ and then she gets all bent out of shape before giving me the baby.”

The path veers off to the right with a sign accompanying it, too. There’ a makeshift path that cuts through the earth and follows the slope down to the left. Eve eyes the sign warily. The map long since returned to her pocket. When Eve told Niko that she and Bill were going on a hike and were relying on Bill’s intuition, Niko all but ran off to the office to grab a map. Although thankful for the gesture, there seemed to be little need for any sort of guidance with the posted signs. And for Eve, Niko worrying is also annoying. Just slightly.

“Did you guys ever want kids?”

Eve expects to fight off some sort of apprehension as the memories from the first years of marriage surface, but she finds it surprising how easily the words tumble out of her mouth:

“We had a scare once when we first got married. We weren’t necessarily trying, but I was late. When we went in for the appointment though, they confirmed I wasn’t pregnant. I was relieved. God, I was so relieved.”

“And Niko?”

“I think he was upset, but he never said anything. We never really talked about it. Since he’s a teacher, I figured he liked the idea of his - _our_ \- kid also going through school? It’s a hallmark for teacher’s to see their kid go through their education, I guess.”

The brush becomes thicker. Roots encroach upon the path, their bark claws snatch away at the gravel, dwindling the walking space to a single file width. Bill takes the lead and Eve follows suit.

“What about you and Keiko? Did you guys want kids?”

“We did when we were younger,” he says over his shoulder. Sweat stains collect on the back of his gray shirt. “But Keiko was infertile. She was devastated when she found out. We tried all the medical bullshit you could do to have a child, but nothing clicked. Those were some of the toughest years of our marriage, but I think it drew us closer because of it. Then we got old. Then there was menopause, and surely you can’t have a baby after menopause, but then we had Julia and we've never been the same since. She’s the light of my life.”

Eve smiles warmly.

“Never have a child in your sixties though. Kids are a pain in the ass.”

“Best not to have a child in the midst of a divorce either.”

Bill pauses and turns to look at Eve.

“You say that as if it’s already happening.”

Eve sighs. “There just are not a lot of days where Niko and I are in sync. It’s exhausting and I’m not sure how to fix it.”

“So you’re going to throw in the towel because marriage is tiring and requires you to put in effort?” Bill marches forward and Eve feels a fire lick the back of her spine at his words.

“Jesus. That’s not what I said. I’m not sure,” _that I can think of something that makes both parties happy in this relationship_ , but rather Eve says, “You know what? Never mind. Forget I said anything. Or maybe go talk to Niko because everyone feels sorry for him. Poor Niko. Stuck in a relationship with Eve.”

“Now you’re sounding fragile.”

“Yeah? Well, everyone is allowed to feel fragile. Even nutters.”

The path tapers off into manmade grooves in the earth. Bill follows it blindly, but Eve pauses on the gravel.

“Are we supposed to be going this way?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t think the map shows off-gravel paths though.”

“Eve, there’s a sign right there.”

There is. Instructions in Russian, English, and one other language Eve is unsure of.

“We’re losing precious time with you standing there.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to go this way.” Eve edges forward slowly as she looks around the forest.

“Come on. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

Eve doesn’t answer. Her stomach tightens as they continue down the path. It’s like a hand has reached into her abdomen and is squeezing ceaselessly. Eve feels a particular hard squeeze when there isn’t even a natural path underneath their feet anymore. She pulls out the map.

“Bill, I don’t know where we are.”

“Good thing I do. The lake should be up ahead in the next mile or so.”

Eve bites her lip. Hard. She shakes her head because she’s being bullshat, as one of her friends would say.

“Bill.”

No response.

“Bill,” says Eve, an undercurrent of warning in her tone.

“Oh, what is it?”

“Point to me where we are on this map.” She holds it out for him and his eyes skim over it before he turns away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’m not sure where we are.”

“Bill. You’re kidding. Tell me you're fucking joking.”

“But we were having such nice conversation.”

Eve squeezes and the paper in her hands goes taut. She almost rips the map by accident.

“Let’s just head back the way we came.”

“Good thought,” says Bill, but his words taper off as his eyes focus on something in the distance. Eve follows his gaze.

“What?” She asks.

“Is someone following us? I thought I saw someone.”

“Where?”

“Over there.”

“Bill, I swear to god if you are messing with me, I will put almond milk in your coffee again.”

“No. Look over there, Eve.”

Eve does as she’s told, but her eyes catch only bushes and tall trees. Thunder claps overhead, snapping through Eve’s spine like a whip.

“Jesus Christ.” Eve clutches her chest as the first bit of sprinkles comes down from the sky. Eve shakes her head for the second time, nearly convinced that everyone- the universe, her husband, Bill, Konstantin-- they all love just fucking with her. She feels like a coil, winding tighter and tighter, but instead of springing, she is just going to implode.

“I hate this vacation.” Eve deadpans.

She heads back toward the path where they came from without a second glance at Bill. Her pace is quick and she hears Bill struggle to keep up. _Good_.

“Oi, be careful.” Bills says. “I think there’s someone else here.”

“I need you to shut up. If you’re going to be a dick, I need you to just stop speaking.”

“Eve, I’m not trying to play a joke on you. I’m dead serious. I swear on my own grave.”

“Well, you’re not dead yet, so there’s not much stake in your own grave, is there?”

There’s the swoosh of sweatpants right before the flailing of limbs. Bill topples over a tree root and eats dirt. Eve only turns when she hears the grunt of pain. He clutches his ankle as he lets out a hiss through clenched teeth. Eve is thankful that there is no blood or any legs skewed in a direction they should not be.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“I think I’ve sprained my ankle.” His voice is tight.

“Can you walk?”

“I don’t know,” says Bill. He pulls up his sweatpants to reveal an ankle that looks perfectly reasonable. But if Eve is being honest with herself, she can see it starting to swell. “Perhaps we should call someone? Here.” 

Bill fishes around in his pocket before handing Eve his cellphone. She enters his pin, but groans in frustration at the zero bars.

“There’s no service out here.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s one word to describe this situation.” Eve clutches her forehead, resisting the urge to pull out her hair. She hands the cellphone back.

“Now you’re being a dick.”

“Yeah, well I am a dick. I’m a dick and we’re lost. You can’t walk. And now it’s raining.”

“Here. Help me up.”

Eve does. It takes some work, but she hoists Bill up. He drapes an arm over her shoulder and leans a considerable amount of weight on her. He’s damp from sweat and there’s an unsavory smell floating off of him, but Eve’s greatest dismay is seeing him touch his foot tenderly to the earth and pulling it up instantly as if he’s been shocked by the ground.

“Alright. We’re close to the path. Let’s just get head back,” says Eve.

They shuffle, sometimes stumble, forward. Eve’s already tired from her hike and doesn’t know if she’ll be able to carry Bill the entire way back to the cabin. They do make it back to the gravel path though.

“Wasn’t there a signpost here earlier?” Bill grunts.

Eve feels her stomach tighten once again, this time with a chilling grip rather than the frustration that held her before. She can see the hole where the sign post was once impaled, but is now gone. Eve delicately turns her head to the forest behind them, but sees no one.

“Let’s just keep moving,” she says.

It’s raining harder now. The terrain becomes a bit more slippery and Eve is having a hard time not tripping and spraining her own ankle, especially with Bill relying so heavily on her. Her skin is cold from being wet, but her body is also hot. The sweat and rain mix unpleasantly.

“What are you humming?” Bill asks.

“I’m not.”

Bill’s eyes are wide and the realization hits Eve like a ton of bricks. She whips her head around, trying to find the source of the humming, but it carries all around the forest. They shuffle forward faster now. It reminds Eve of a child’s lullaby. The voice is soft and every pronunciation of “la, la, la,” drives another spike of fear into the back of her neck. The staccato of the tune makes the lullaby seem sharp and detached, the voice breathless as the humming draws closer.

Eve stops.

“Bill,” she says, her voice and body shaking.

Up ahead, on the path in front of them, stands a lone figure. She’s tall and carries herself with a wide frame. On her head is the unsettling half mask of a rabbit, framed by a black veil that cascades over her shoulders. The mask is white and faded, splattered by dirt or some dark substance that looks eerily similar to blood. Under white pointed ears, sit two black and beady eyes.

The lower half of her face is revealed to show a wide smile, perhaps too wide.

The woman wears a tattered cotton shirt that compliments every inch of the muscles in her arms. There’s a large axe in one hand and a hatchet in the other. Tan suspenders hold up a pair of sturdy jeans and around her waist appears the remains for the skirts for a dress, faded with flowers and details long forgotten by dirt.

Her feet are bare.

Lightning cracks overhead, illuminating the forest briefly and gleams off the blade heads of the weapons, before the woods feel ten shades dimmer. The sky rumbles and Eve is reminded of the rain when it pelts her face. Then slowly, every muscle methodically shifts and the smile slips from the woman’s face, replaced with a firm, determined line.

The first step she takes toward them causes Eve’s stomach to drop through the forest floor. Eve is certain she’s going to pass out. It would be the worst solution to this moment, so she tugs Bill urgently and they veer off the path into the woods with the Huntress in pursuit. Eve peers over her shoulder to see the woman following them with a leisurely pace. She’s not sprinting to close the distance, rather taking a casual stroll while trailing them.

‘Shit’ tumbles from Bill’s mouth a minimum of fifteen times. He hobbles faster with Eve’s guidance, but it's not fast enough. Eve is aware of how they are slowing down and Bill is evidently in a lot of pain because he grits his teeth hard enough that his jaw could break.

Eve doesn’t dare look behind her anymore because she’s certain the woman is close. They're about to approach a clearing, but before they can break the treeline a hatchet buries itself in the tree beside Eve's head.

She recoils as if she's been slapped. Her heart hammers in her chest and air stills in her lungs. The loss of momentum takes its toll on Bill, whose movements are exaggerated as he stumbles forward.

“Just,” says Bill breathlessly. “Just leave me behind.”

“No!” The scream erupts from Eve’s throat so suddenly it hurts. “I’m not leaving you.”

Despite her declaration though, Bill does drop himself in a heap to the ground. He leans against the tree and looks defeated as the woman approaches them.

“Jesus Christ, Bill. Get up! Get off your ass. Shit. _Shit_ ,” Eve screeches.

“I can’t,” he says between staccato gasps. “I can’t. My leg.”

Eve whips around to face the Huntress, who is closing the distance between them with the slow gait. She had retrieved her hatchet from the tree, for it was poised above her head, ready to strike Eve down. The hatchet, however, stays frozen in place as the woman goes still just a few paces away. Eve twitches and turns her head slightly to the left to follow the woman’s gaze and now she really can’t breathe.

A brown bear saunters toward them. Eve instinctively takes a step back and she feels her body pitch backwards. She swears her life is supposed to flash before her eyes, but it’s the sky again as it cracks with lightning, followed by thunder and she’s falling. Her back hits the ground hard and she’s sliding a few feet down a natural incline. Mud coats her back and she can feel the chill soak into her spine.

Eve comes to a halt against a bed of wildflowers. Her hair splays out in every direction as she looks up at the cloudy sky. She leans up slightly and can see the Huntress peering down at her, hatchet no longer raised. Their eyes connect briefly before Eve hears the thunderous grumble of the bear. It swaggers closer to Bill and it takes everything in Eve to sit up.

She claws desperately against the muddy incline, digging her fingers into the soil and wildflowers. She scrambles up the hill and the bear is so close to Bill it could kiss him.

Eve’s chest is heaving when she makes eye contact with the beast, its eyes black. The bear goes to stand on its back two legs while it sizes them up, a snarl dragging from its lips.

Eve sucks in a breath and screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to [The Huntress Lullaby](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bc0otoDm0y4) if you're curious.
> 
> Would love to know your thoughts! Leave a comment or kudos if you feel moved. Have a good day :3


	3. Chapter 3

“We can’t tell them.”

“What are you going on about?”

“I mean, we shouldn’t tell them. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“A good idea would have been not going on that hike at all. 

“Yeah, well whose fault is that?”

“Please, Eve. I’m so fragile right now. My leg is positively throbbing and I don’t have the energy to deal with your mood. You’re too much.”

Eve and Bill find themselves in the office space of the Big Twelve Resort shortly after they came stumbling out of the woods. Konstantin met them halfway with a golf cart once they found cell service. 

Navigating out of the forest was done with phantom limbs, making much of the journey feel like a dream. Eve went toe-to-toe with the bear and lived to tell the tale. She took all of her grievances--all of the resentment towards Niko, the frustrations with her coworkers, and the indifference with this trip- and shoved it all into one blood-curdling scream. Her throat was raw. Rain, sweat, and tears collected at the end of her chin before falling to the soil below.

The woods were silent like the moment after the clap of thunder.

The bear fell back on all fours, grunted, and sauntered away. Neither Eve nor Bill could move for what felt like ages. They watched its retreating form disappear further and further into the woods. Eve came to sit beside Bill, sliding down against the bark and resting cross-legged in the wet dirt.

The Huntress was gone. In the midst of Eve’s screaming match with the bear, the Huntress had taken her leave. No trace. No proof she had even existed beyond their imaginations. The immediate danger was gone, for the most part, and the two took a moment to collect their wits before hobbling back to the main cabins. The trek itself took twice the time it did when they had first embarked on their hike, and was accompanied by foul language and the encouragement of “just a little bit more.” Eve’s body ached in several places: a soreness she knew she would feel for days to come.

Once back on a semi-familiar path, they called Konstantin and described their location to him according to signpost kilometer marker. He slid up to them in a golf cart fifteen minutes later. 

“What happened to you two?” Konstantin asked. 

“Bear. We ran into a bear,” said Eve. A chuckle bubbled up from her throat and she had wide eyes. “We tried our best to stay on the paths, but I think someone might have vandalized them.”

Konstantin gave Eve a curious look before his eyes skimmed the forest evenly. Eve got the impression he was searching for _something_.

“And what did you do when you ran into the bear?”

“I screamed. A lot. Like cut out my lungs and opened them up sort of scream.”

“You screamed at the bear?” Konstantin asked.

“And it was kickass,” shouted Bill from the back of the golf cart.

“And you saw no one else?” Konstantin probed.

“No, we didn’t. We saw no one else. Now please drive us back. My coworker is in a lot of pain and needs his ankle on ice.”

Konstantin gave Eve a once-over, then the forest, and then finally drove back to the resort. He deposited them in the office and said he would return with the on-site doctor. Eve wondered how a remote lodge could afford an on-site doctor, but did not have the energy to vocalize it.

Once Konstantin closes the door behind him, Eve allows herself to take in the office. It’s a quaint space with several chairs, a coffee table, and a large desk. There are two large filing cabinets and shelves for organization. A photo sits on the desk with Konstantin, and Eve can only assume, his wife and daughter at a festival. Behind the desk is another one of those puzzle portraits; the image is of a breakfast table, filled to the brim with a bright assortment of food. Eve has trouble taking in the whole image though because her eyes keep gravitating back to the sausage platter in the middle.

Bill’s leg is propped up on the coffee table, an ice bag draped over his ankle. He wears a content look and Eve thinks it’s the painkillers starting to kick in.

“And we don’t want to tell them about the crazy axe woman in the forest because?” Bill asks, his head rolling to the side while he peers out the window.

“Because we don’t know what they know.”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because I don’t know when he’ll come back! Bill. Focus. Listen to me.”

Bill’s head rolls back to face Eve.

“Listening,” he says sweetly. Eve could smack him. 

“The first day we got here, Konstantin told us that bizarre story about the Huntress. I thought it was just a folk tale they told the campers here, but then we see her-”

“I’m not entirely sure what we saw.”

“Bill, please focus,” Eve pleads. She eyes the door, waiting for the moment that Konstantin comes barging back in. “Kenny did some digging and found that people go missing here often. Like an absurd amount of guests either die or are not heard of again when they stay here.”

“That’s… unsettling. Do you think that crazy axe woman has something to do with it? Do you think she knows Konstantin?”

“I don’t know,” Eve admits. “But I’m going to find out.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ve found something to occupy your time on this trip. I was worried you’ve spent too much time chasing our assassin, but now you have another killer to keep you distracted. Did you already have Kenny make an access card to this room?”

“Am I that predictable?”

Bill’s mouth flattens into a firm line and he shakes his head. 

“No, of course not,” says Bill, his tone mocking.

“I’m putting almond milk in your coffee, you dick.”

Bill chuckles soaking in all of the mirth of the moment before his face sobers. There’s an absent focus in Bill’s gaze as he stares at his ankle, or perhaps through it. Eve sees the shine in his eyes before the tears start to slide freely down his cheeks. He brings his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose and sniffs once.

“Are you alright?” Eve asks.

“I was almost mauled by a bear,” he says. He sucks in a breath before he starts sobbing. Eve slides her chair closer to Bill and rubs soothing circles over his back. Bill rests his head against her shoulder. Eve wonders briefly if she should be crying too, but when she searches inside herself there is no trace of distress. Sitting on the coil of her chest, rather, is a burning curiosity to unravel the mystery of the Big Twelve Resort. Who is murdering all of these people and why? How is Konstantin involved? How does he know the Huntress?

Eve is so engrossed in her thoughts that Bill asks her a second time to pass the box of tissues. It is only after the tears have dried that Konstantin returns with the doctor and Carolyn in tow.

Carolyn is surprisingly breathless, the only indication being how her nostrils flare to take in air. She wears the same stoic face, betraying little of her thoughts in this moment. The doctor clutches a brown briefcase to his side. He wears a nice enough gray suit and wire-rimmed glasses. Eve has trouble making out if his facial hair is a light brown or ginger in the office lighting, but his mug appears to be forever set on discontent. Even when he smiles at them, it looks like a frown. 

The doctor greets them and Eve looks to Konstantin for clarification.

“They don’t speak Russian,” says Konstantin. “English.”

“Ah, good afternoon. I am Dr. Marat,” he says. “Mr. Vasiliev said you all encountered a bear in the woods, yet you appear to be in one piece. What can I do for you both?”

Eve points to the ice bag on Bill’s leg.

“We believe my colleague sprained his ankle in the woods. I’m fine though.”

Dr. Marat sets his briefcase down and begins to examine Bill’s ankle. Carolyn's burning gaze bores into the side of Eve’s face. Eve tries to look anywhere else, but has trouble when Carolyn speaks to her.

“Early morning stroll to clear the head?” Carolyn asks.

“It was Bill’s idea,” admits Eve.

“And you both happened to run into a bear without so much as a scratch on either of your persons?”

“Bill sprained his ankle.”

“I can see that.”

“Bears in these woods typically do not come close to the trails or the cabins,” says Konstantin. “How did you run into one?”

“We were following the signs on the path, but I think, as I said earlier, someone vandalized them or moved them or something. We got lost.”

“You got lost? Did you not bring a map?”

“I did, but-”

“I got us lost because I thought we didn’t need the map,” says Bill. “I wanted to relive a bit of my scouting days, but it was a bit silly to go into the woods without relying on a map, wasn’t it? But it would also be a bit silly to have a map if someone was rearranging your signage, hm? I was fortunate to have Eve at my side though.”

“Bill,” says Carolyn. “Did you switch rooms with Frank?”

“Yes? What does that got to do with anything though?”

Carolyn purses her lips and nods. She shares a look with Konstantin, whose face is devoid of emotion, but his eyes are alight with something Eve can’t quite decipher.

“I’m going to go check in on those signs,” says Konstantin. “But in light of these recent events, I would like to offer you both a complimentary massage as an apology from the resort. We never want to endanger our guests at any time and if someone is vandalizing our path markers, that person shall be dealt with swiftly. Thank you, goodbye.”

Konstantin marches out of the office without a second glance.

Carolyn looks around the room, never letting her eyes rest on something for more than a few seconds.

“Well, I’m going to go polish off my chestnut wood chess set. Kenny and I have a match in an hour. And with all this excitement, I believe I have forgotten my intended moveset and will need to develop a new plan,” Carolyn explains. “Feel better. The both of you.”

Eve shakes her head and mouths the word “what” to Bill who simply shrugs. Dr. Marat bandages Bill’s leg and escorts them out of the room. He recommends for Bill to stay off his feet as much as possible and to continue to ice it. 

Eve settles on a plush chair in the resort lobby, not quite ready to face Niko yet with the events of this morning. Bill has the same idea and grabs the seat beside her. He watches her bite the side of her thumb, her eyes flicking to different spots in the room.

“Alright. Spit it out,” says Bill.

“I don’t trust Carolyn,” says Eve. “I don’t trust Konstantin either. There’s something going on here, and I don’t know what it is. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Boss lady was acting a bit off her game, even for her.”

“Also, why didn’t the Huntress kill us?” Eve asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Is that what you’re going to call her now? Perhaps she thought the bear would finish us off?”

“No. That just seems lazy.”

“Oh, and she’s not lazy? Do you know how she murders her victims, Eve?”

“No.” _But I would like to_. 

Bill hums to himself before he fishes for something in his pocket. He pulls out his cellphone and opens up the gallery.

“I do have a gift for you though. A sort of peace offering to keep that almond milk out of my coffee.”

He passes her the phone.

“Bill. Oh, Jesus Christ. You’re brilliant. Holy shit.”

… 

“I want a copy. Something to frame and to put in my bedroom when we go home.”

“That’s a little weird.”

“It’s fucking impressive is what that is,” clarifies Elena. 

She holds Eve’s phone in her hand and eyes a photo sent from Bill. It’s a snapshot of the moment in the woods when Eve screams at the bear. One foot forward, hands at her side, as her body leans towards the beast. Veins jump out of her neck. Her hair is wet and wild with a little bit of mud and flower petals in her dark tresses. The bear stares down at her with its teeth bared.

Eve was impressed that Bill could capture such a detailed photo, but what was more impressive was the figure in the back of the photo. Genuine photo evidence of the Huntress, albeit slightly blurry. Her teeth were also bared, smiling as she watched Eve take the bear head on. Her body was a blur, however, and Eve wasn’t sure if it was because she was in motion or if it was just her effect on the camera.

“The mask is a little freaky,” says Elena. “Okay, a lot freaky. Those eyes are so unsettling.”

There’s a click at the door as it unlocks and Frank steps into the boardroom. Eve presses the button on the side of her phone and it goes to her lock screen with a photo of her and Niko. She eyes it for a moment.

_When was that taken? Two- three years ago? Jesus._

Eve lifts her gaze to Frank. He looks the same. Displeased with everything.

“What are you two up to?” Frank asks. He goes to sit at the farthest seat away from them and opens his satchel. 

“Eve was just showing me the porn collection on her phone.”

Eve chokes on air and Frank raises his eyebrows.

“You may want to try being a bit more professional, Ms. Felton.”

“You may want to try relaxing a bit more while we’re on vacation, Mr. Haleton.”

“Is there something you have to say to me?”

“Nope. Just trying to fight the stigma. Women can masturbate, too, ya know?”

Eve shakes her head and opens her mouth several times. “I just want to clarify that I was not showing her porn.”

Eve’s sentence hangs perfectly in the air when Kenny and Carolyn walk in the room. There’s a chess set underneath Carolyn’s arm. Their faces synchronize as they shoot Eve a look. The woman in question buries her head in her hands and mumbles, “Oh, Jesus.”

She can hear Elena failing to contain a snort. Silence layers the room except for Elena’s lame attempts to keep from laughing. Carolyn shuffles in and places the chess set on the table. Eve raises her head to see all of her coworkers staring at her.

“Frank, have you called your kids to check in with them since we’ve arrived?” Carolyn asks.

“No. They’re with their grandmother and I don’t fancy speaking with her most days.”

“Perhaps you could give them a ring later then? It’s always good to remind your kids how much you appreciate them.”

Carolyn eyes Kenny briefly as he goes to sit behind the collection of monitors.

“If by appreciate do you mean destroy all confidence in their chess-playing abilities,” says Kenny, his voice monotone, “then yes. That is the best way to appreciate your children.”

“You’re getting better though.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

There’s a pause in the room, and Eve wonders if Carolyn meant to say love rather than appreciate, but god, the Martens family dynamic is one she has yet to figure out. Their mother-son relationship reminds Eve a lot of an opaque window; she could not see through it.

“Well, I’m going to get a cup of tea,” says Carolyn finally. “Frank would you like to join me?”

“Certainly,” he says. 

“Perhaps you can show me what’s on your phone when we get back, Eve?” There’s a mischievous look in Carolyn’s eye as well as the faintest smirk. 

Heat radiates off Eve’s cheeks and she can’t quite make eye contact with anyone.

Carolyn opens the door for her colleague.

“Frank, I’m heading into town to go to the market later today. Would you like anything? Any favorite dishes I could prepare for you?” Carolyn asks.

Eve doesn’t quite catch his answer as the door swings close and they continue down the hallway. _Why doesn’t Carolyn prepare dishes for me?_

Eve slaps Elena’s arm.

“What was that all about? Porn? What the hell, Elena?”

“What?” Elena asks innocently, a grin breaks across her face. “Frank has been an absolute monkey-dick to Kenny lately. I love for any opportunity to make him uncomfortable. And now they won’t suspect that you have evidence of a killer on your phone.”

“We don’t know if she’s a killer.”

“Oh, but you want her to be, babe.”

Eve doesn’t understand why she’s still blushing. Her cheeks hurt.

“Frank and Carolyn are going to think I’m a weirdo though. For the porn thing.”

“They certainly already thought that though.”

“Piss off.”

“I know. I’m the worst for exposing you, but we don’t kink-shame in the MI5. Now show Kenny the photo.”

“What photo?” Kenny asks, his head shooting up above his monitor. Eve crosses the room and comes to sit beside Kenny. She unlocks her phone and his eyes go wide. “That’s so cool.”

“Eve won the screaming match, just so you know.”

“Mum filled me in on your hike with Bill this morning, but I thought she was just messing with me about the bear part.”

“She told you?” Eve asks.

“She tells me everything.”

Eve furrows her brow.

“Okay. I was just kidding. She rarely tells me anything. But she did tell me about this morning. Also, this one here, looks like a splicer.”

“I’m sorry. A what?”

“A splicer. More specifically one of the spider splicers from the BioShock franchise. Really nasty creatures with hooks for hands. They wear masks like your friend in the forest. BioShock one and two are gems, but Infinite is garbage.”

“Thank you… Kenny,” says Eve. “But I’m not sure what part of that was English.

“All of it.”

Eve sighs. “Okay, so she looks like a person from a video game you play?”

“An NPC, yes.”

“I don’t know what to do with all of that, so I’m just going to move on. Are you able to search for incidents surrounding the Huntress in the nearby area? Perhaps see if there are any similar photos of her like this one?”

“Do you want me to do this instead of our actual job?”

Eve’s hubris jumps into her mouth and she has trouble swallowing it, her hypocrisy threatening to choke her.

“Yes,” says Eve quietly.

“Perish the thought of us ever getting any work done,” says Elena. She winks at Eve. “I’m so happy you’ve found an entertaining hobby, love. Not everyone has a knack for murderers, but I’m glad you do.”

Eve bites her lip. “It’s just something to do. Once this trip is over and done with, I’ll probably never think about it again.

“ _Right_ , babe. I believe you.”

The familiar clicks of Kenny’s keyboard fill the air. Elena comes to the table and organizes her own stack of papers for their meeting this afternoon. Eve gets up and goes to sit by Elena.

“Hey, Eve.”

“Yeah, Kenny?”

“I know we give you crap, for being into murderers and whatnot. But are you okay? You did run into a bear today,” says Kenny. His eyes flicker briefly to the wall and then back to her face. “And maybe a serial killer,” he says, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little sore.”

Kenny considers her for a moment, his steel blue eyes boring into her. It’s odd, Eve thinks, how he can look like Carolyn and himself at the same time.

“Okay. Let us know if you need anything.”

There’s a click from the door. Carolyn, Frank, and Bill all come sauntering in. Bill hobbles toward the table, coming to sit beside Eve. 

“How did it go with Keiko?” Eve asks.

“She was positively fuming. I’m sleeping in the doghouse tonight. You with Niko?”

Eve smiles. “I haven’t told him yet.”

“Alright. Let’s get to it,” says Carolyn. She nurses a steaming styrofoam cup in one hand and has the clicker for the projector in the other.

“Victor Kendrin, murdered in broad daylight with a glock 41 handgun. Witnesses in Vienna saw a person enter the scene shortly after Kendrin left a sushi restaurant with his girlfriend, but not one witness could identify the assassin. Kasia Molkovska, while under our protection, was murdered in her hospital room while recovering from shock. Despite our best efforts to be discreet, the assailant had intel on Molkovska’s hospital location, bedroom number, and when she was admitted.”

Carolyn passes through the slides like routine. Eve has heard this before as well as the rest of MI5. And yet, there’s a certain controlled fury in Carolyn's movements. Eve watches how tightly she’s gripping the clicker.

“All potential leads and witnesses are cleaned up shortly after they enter our protection,” says Carolyn thoughtfully. She pauses to look at the screen before her gaze turns to the rest of the room. 

“It’s almost as if they are one step ahead of us at all times.”

Eve leans back in her chair, wondering where she’s going with this. There’s a delicate rise in Carolyn’s eyebrows as the room is swallowed by silence.

“Carla de Mann,” continues Carolyn after a few moments.

Out of the corner of her eye, Eve watches Frank swallow uncomfortably, his adam’s apple bobbing noticeably like he’s having trouble swallowing his tea.

… 

Eve is sore. In body and in mind.

Carolyn was in a mood the entire afternoon, acting very particularly like Carolyn. Decisive. Unforgiving. Scrutinizing. The list could go on and on. Eve could delve into foul territory, using more colorful language to describe her boss, but she’ll settle for non-vulgar terms for this evening.

When Eve returns to her cabin, there is a wonderful aroma of meat and spices wafting through the air. Candles dot the shelves and small table located on the far side of the room next to the window. The cabin itself is a small place, one bedroom with all the amenities of a short stay: bed, television, wardrobe. But a stove it does not have, so the delicious scent in the air confuses Eve as well as the set table, flowers, and her husband in a suit. Why is Niko in a suit? 

“Hello,” greets Niko. He chuckles, almost nervously as he does so.

“Hi,” says Eve. She sets her handbag down and comes into the room slowly. “What’s all this?”

“I just wanted to do something nice for my wife.”

“Why?”

“Because you are my wife and I love you.” It sounds almost forced and Eve feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Images of the bear, the Huntress, and Niko’s search history flash through Eve’s mind all at once. She’s overstimulated and goes to sit on the bed.

“How did you even prepare this?”

“There’s a market in town with fresh produce. Carolyn told me about it. And there’s also a kitchenette in the community center available to the campers, so I thought I’d-”

“You spoke with Carolyn?”

“Yes?”

“Did she come to the market with you?”

Niko pauses before his hands come to rest on his hips. 

“No. She did not. But can you explain to me why I’m getting the third degree from my wife when I try to do something nice for her?”

“I didn’t ask you to make me dinner,” says Eve. 

Niko exhales. “I’m just trying to do something nice.”

Eve bites the inside of her cheek. She feels the remark bubble up her throat, yet her buffer seems to be out of commission for the evening.

“I know, Niko. That’s all you do. Something nice.”

“Well, what do you want, Eve? Want me to be a dick to you? To shout at you?”

There’s a buzzing in the back of her scalp. Eve breathes to keep from saying what she wants because she knows _exactly_ what she wants, but can’t say it yet.

Eve breathes once more, this time deeper, before she feels herself deflate on the exhale. She rises from the bed and shuffles to the small table, set with a gorgeous meal. There’s a bottle of red wine in the window sill and she feels her stomach flip when she sits down.

“No, I don’t want that. Let’s just eat.”

Niko stands there for a minute, eyeing his wife, before he takes a seat at the small table. The only sounds between them is silverware clicking against the plates. Eve reaches for the wine, but she freezes. A bear is featured on the label of the bottle and Eve contemplates throwing it across the room.

“Everything okay?” Niko asks.

“Yep.” Her hand falls limp onto the table.

“I saw your clothes on the floor this afternoon. Caked in mud? Did you fall on your hike?”

“Yes. It was pretty slippery out with the rain and all.”

Niko hums in agreement and then points his fork at her plate.

“Do you like the dish?” He asks.

“Mhmm,” she says, without tasting anything at all.

It is a slippery slope. And Eve continues to slide farther and farther down the rest of the evening.

… 

There’s a room for that. Any and everything at this resort, there is a room for it. Eve puzzles over the enigma of this lodge, for its ability to have a particular room for every occasion. She arrives early in the morning the next day, wearing comfortable clothing at the promise of a massage. Konstantin was quick with his word, scheduling appointments for both Bill and Eve within the breadth of a day.

Eve walks up to the resort and sees Konstantin also approaching. She holds the door open for him.

“Thank you, Eve. How are you feeling this morning? Any more bear sightings?”

The image of the wine bottle fills Eve’s mind. It stared at her while she got dressed this morning, so she turned the bottle so that the label was facing the window, not her.

“Afraid not,” says Eve, as she forces a smile.

“Well this is good, yes?”

“I guess so.”

Eve follows him into the lobby and she can see a bottle of cream in his hand. She gives him a look and he smiles with his brilliant teeth. 

“The poison ivy in this area can be vicious, just like the wildlife.”

“Is it for you?”

Konstantin chuckles. “No, it’s for-”

The door to the office opens and out steps a man in a suit. There’s the crash of glass behind him. He winces as he closes the door. Anton rounds the corner then, his eyes alight with curiosity at the sound of the shattering.

“-my angry niece,” says Konstantin. There’s more shattering, but muted now by the closed door. “She has a condition.”

Eve nods slowly and looks at the man who just stepped out of the office.

“She’s fine,” he answers.

“Thank you, Jerome. Perhaps you could ask her a few more questions with me in the room, too. Okay?”

Jerome nods before opening the door once more. This time there’s almost an inhuman growl at his entrance. Anton raises his eyebrows, and for the first time in her life, Eve is on the same page with this man.

“I have to go comfort my niece. She is very distressed,” says Konstantin. “Your appointment will begin soon, Eve. I understand the massage therapist is running late, but he will join you shortly. You will be in room 201. Feel free to take off as much or as little of your clothing as you would like. Stairs are over there.” 

And with that, Konstantin slides back into the office, bellowing something in Russian.

“Oh, a massage, darling?” 

Eve throws her head back, but tries not to groan under the attention of Anton.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” says Anton, nearly purring as he does.

“Will do,” says Eve. She makes a face as she walks away, heading toward the stairs. The carpet is crisp and clean on the second level, clearly not receiving as much traffic as the lobby. It’s quiet, too. Eve finds room 201 easily enough and when she steps inside, it’s a room with dim lighting. There’s a massage table, a fake plant, and a small coffee table that houses a speaker. On the table itself is a thin, white blanket.

Eve exhales, feeling a sense of nervousness claw its way up her chest. She decides that if she just undresses and doesn’t look at the therapist when they arrive that it’ll be for the better. Her body was already something she had a hard time displaying in front of Niko, let alone a complete stranger. Eve slides her shorts off and takes her shirt off. They pool in a crumpled heap on the ground. She goes to unhook her bra, and her breasts are met with the cool air of the room. She bites her lip, however, and puts her bra back on before hopping onto the table.

Eve grabs the sheet and pulls it just above her waist before lying on her stomach, face resting in the headpiece of the table. She wonders just how long she’ll have to wait when she hears a soft knock on the door. She freezes when it creaks open.

“Hello. Eve Polastri?”

The voice is soft and carries a strong scouse accent.

“Yes,” answers Eve dumbly.

“Good morning. My name is Natalie Popova. I will be your massage therapist today. Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was a bear,” she says. Eve means to feel irritated at all iterations of the word bear, but she finds Natalie’s voice easy to fall into.

“It’s okay.”

“Have you ever had a massage before?”

“Yes, but it may have been a decade ago.” Eve cringes internally as she dates herself because the other woman in the room sounds young.

“You are absolutely in need of one of our best programs then.”

“I suppose so. Are you one of the best?”

“I am very good with my hands.” 

Natalie comes closer to the table. She circles around and Eve can see her delicate fingers pick up the speaker.

“Do you mind if I play some music?”

“Go for it.”

“Might be a bit weird, but I do fancy national anthems if that’s okay?”

Eve chuckles before she nods into the head piece.

“I don’t mind at all.”

Natalie syncs the speaker with her phone and selects a playlist. Blaring horns and dedicated drums fill the backdrop of the room as she lowers the volume. Natalie comes back to stand beside the table.

“Alright. I see that you left your bra on, which is fine. We do use a lavender oil to help relax the muscles, but I can work around your bra if you’d like.”

“Oh, um, here.” Eve goes to sit up, but she feels a hand on her back.

“Let me,” says Natalie. Her fingers unclip the bra easily and slide it up her shoulders. Eve sits up slightly, letting the garment slide off of her and onto the floor.

“Are you comfortable, Eve Polastri?”

Eve likes her name in the woman’s mouth, how it rolls on her tongue.

“Yes,” says Eve. “Are you comfortable?”

Natalie chuckles. Eve hears a bottle open behind her and the scent of lavender fills the air.

“People do not usually ask _me_ that question. But I suppose I am comfortable. Thank you for checking in.”

Eve nods into the head piece. Natalie’s hands come to rest on her neck before squeezing gently. Tension surges in her muscles before releasing and Eve tries not to groan at the magic fingers of her masseuse.

“Would you prefer talking or not talking during your appointment?”

Eve has trouble using her words, but finally says, “Uh, what do you prefer?”

“Oh, no. It’s whatever you would like, Eve Polastri.”

“You can talk.”

“Excellent.”

Natalies hands move expertly across Eve’s back. The muscles in her body are singing to the touch of her masseuse, and Eve wonders why she didn’t get a massage earlier in life.

“How are you enjoying your stay here at the resort?”

“It’s interesting. Definitely not boring.”

“What have you done so far?”

“I’ve done axe throwing and hiking, but not much else. It’s a work vacation, so we’re trying to stay on top of our caseload.”

“Oh. And what do you do for a day job?”

“I work for MI5. British intelligences. We’re tracking an assassin.”

“Oh my,” says Natalie. She chuckles as her fingers run down the lower portion of Eve’s back. The woman on the table hums as her eyes close.

“Jesus, this feels good,” says Eve.

“I’m glad. You carry a lot of tension in your neck and upper back. Would you say that your job is stressful?”

Eve snorts. “A lot of people think my job is stressful, but I don’t think it is. My stress comes from other places in life.”

“Like?”

“My husband.”

“Oh, and what does he do?”

Natalie’s hands rove back up to Eve’s neck, kneading into the flesh and this time Eve does groan.

“He’s, uh, a math teacher. Teaches grade school. He likes it a lot, but I don’t think he likes me all that much nowadays.”

Natalie hums from behind her. “That’s a shame. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

“Ha. Thank you.” Eve’s voice sounds a bit more husky than she intended. “What about you? Are you from Russia? Your accent-”

“A bit strong, yeah? I haven’t quite been able to shake it, but it’s okay. Reminds me of my roots. My parents came over from the UK when I was either six or seven for work. I married an arse of a man myself.”

Natalie spreads her fingers wide across Eve’s back and runs her palms against her wingspan, from spine to shoulders. Eve stills. She does not feel the cool metal of a ring against Natalie’s fingers, but perhaps it’s because of the oil? A familiar feeling caresses the back of Eve’s ear, reminding her of when she felt watched by the eerie presence of the forest.

“You alright? You got really tense there for a moment.”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just… hate men who are arses.”

Natalie’s hands slide up to Eve’s neck and squeeze.

“Would you say that your husband is an arse, Eve Polastri?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. I would say I’m the arse, actually.”

Natalie hums from behind her. With all of this arse talk, Eve is reminded momentarily of Konstantin. _I understand the massage therapist is running late, but he will join you shortly. He._

“Shit,” mouths Eve inaudibly. She groans internally and feels a spike of adrenaline shoot through her body. Her heart beats against the leather massage table.

“Do you speak Russian?” Eve asks, a little breathless.

“A little. I don’t prefer it though.”

“Why?”

“Do you speak any other languages?”

“No.”

“Hm. I could teach you. I would love to teach you a lot of things, but I’m afraid-”

There’s a muffled shouting coming from the hallway, followed by the heavy padding of footsteps.

“That we’re approaching the end of our session. Thank you for your time today, love. It was wonderful to see you again.”

Eve’s brain short-circuits and she hears the door open and the shouting doubles. Eve snaps up from the table and flips her body, but Natalie has already left the room. There’s a crescendo of blaring horns coming from the speaker before a voice announces, “Disconnected” and it goes quiet.

Konstantin hurtles himself into the doorway, breathless, and is accompanied by a man with an open gash on his temple. Konstantin's eyes dart around the room, as if to assess the damage, but he lets out a great sigh of relief when he sees Eve and starts to chuckle.

“Nice tits,” says Konstantin. 

Eve throws her head back and groans as he closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG thank you to my friend, Sig, for taking pity on this fool and editing my work. Can't wait to buy you coffee some day.
> 
> Lemme know your thoughts if you feel moved, otherwise have a good day folks!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big big thank you to Sig for taking care of me and this fic and helping me with all of the edits. B)

Breakfast is the last thing on Eve’s mind when she sets her tray down in the cafeteria. She chews absently without tasting much of the food, sawing through the rye bread with her molars. Her eyes dart over to the doorway every so often, watching for the moment when Konstantin will lumber into the room. She doesn’t know what he’s up to, but she doesn’t trust him and can’t stand being in the same room as him for more than five seconds.

After scrambling to get dressed, when Eve walked out of room 201, Konstantin had asked, “Are you okay?”

“What the hell is going on? Who is this? Who was that?” Eve asked, throwing her hand dramatically down the hallway.

“This is your masseuse. Found him in the broom closet downstairs.” Konstantin nodded toward the end of the hallway. “ _That_ is a problem.”

“Care to elaborate? Care to elaborate on anything about this place?” 

“I told you it was going to be a man, Eve.”

“You said no such thing. You told me to go upstairs to this room and here I am. Now are you going to tell me who that woman was? Is she your niece?”

Konstantin smiled, one in which he did not show his teeth. “I can see that you’re okay now because you have that fire in your eyes again. I’m going to call Dr. Marat to come check on our massage therapist here. Enjoy the rest of your day, Ms. Polastri.”

Konstantin sauntered away with the man in tow, but he paused at the top of the stairs as if considering something.

“I hope you have a good life insurance policy,” called Konstantin over his shoulder.

_I hope you have a good life insurance policy._

Eve wolfs down two fried eggs. She makes a face as some yolk catches in her throat. She coughs while beating her fist against her sternum in order to dislodge the food from her throat. She brings a cup to her lips and finds little relief when the water slides down her esophagus. 

In short, Eve enjoyed the massage she received earlier today, even though it was not done by the intended masseuse. Despite her encounter with the stranger, Eve felt oddly relaxed about the whole ordeal until Konstantin mentioned a life insurance policy.

“He’s an ass,” says Eve as she takes another sip of her water. “He’s an ass. He’s an arse. Arse. Arse.”

“Who’s an arse?”

Eve jumps, cheeks filled with sausages this time. A girl, no older than fifteen, stands beside the table and holds a stack of books under one arm. She wears a brown leather jacket and a black beanie. Tufts of sandy curls poke out from underneath the beanie. Her face is familiar, but Eve swears she’s never met this girl in her life.

Eve looks around and swallows. For some reason her brain can not process being in the presence of a teenager here, at this resort of all places. 

“Uh, hi,” says Eve. “Do you always talk to strangers?”

“Uh, do you always talk to yourself?” the youth counters.

“Listen, I’ve had a shitty few days here and I’m just trying to process some things aloud.”

The girl nods thoughtfully. “So you’re trying to process some arse?” 

“Jesus Christ,” says Eve, her eyes wide. “Who left you unattended?”

“It happens more often than you think. Parents leave their kids unsupervised all the time here.” The girl sets her books on the table and sits across from Eve. “You’re the woman from the London group Papa keeps talking about, aren’t you?”

“Papa?” Eve asks, her face paling. “Oh, god. Are you Konstantin’s kid?”

“He is my father, yes. Is he the arse you’re talking about?”

“No. No, I was talking about…. Some different arse,” says Eve lamely. “Are you old enough to be swearing? Please don’t tell Konstantin I swore in front of you. Where did you even come from? Should you be by yourself?”

“You are very tightly strung. No wonder Papa is having such a headache over you. Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I like to think I ask the necessary questions. Thank-you-very-much. Has your father spoken about me at home? What did he say?”

The girl rolls her eyes and rests her chin in her hands. “I’m not sure what she sees in you.”

Ice unfurls in Eve’s veins and freezes her body.

“Who?”

“Do you like the lodge? Papa is very proud of it.”

Irritation slithers down Eve’s spine and she gives the girl a pointed look.

“The decor is nice I guess, but who were you talking about? Who is she?” 

The girl studies Eve for a long moment. 

“I don’t actually know her name. Don’t be too upset when she doesn’t tell you her name either.”

“What? What are you talking about? Who are you-”

“I’m Irina, by the way,” says the girl. Irina lifts her hand and Eve eyes it for a moment before she sighs and reaches to shake the girl’s hand.

“Eve Polastri.”

“I know.”

Eve’s eyebrows rise before she scoffs. “You know, you have that same cryptic bullshit aura your father has.”

“You shouldn’t swear in front of children.”

“Yeah, well you shouldn’t talk to strangers. How is your English so good? I swear, every time I visit a different country the locals speak it better than I do.”

“Probably.”

“Piss off.” 

“My father is a driven man. He likes to be one step ahead of people. He wants to have the most knowledge in the room. One barrier to knowledge is language, so he builds a bridge between languages so there is no barrier. Knowledge is power and the more languages you know, the more power you have.”

Eve nods thoughtfully. Irina opens her mouth right as there’s a shout from the doorway. Both she and Eve jump as Konstantin’s large frame enters the cafeteria. Irina smiles sheepishly and Konstantin glowers at the both of them. He says something in Russian, causing Irina to rise from her seat.

“Finally. He’s finished taking a shit. All this stress really upsets his bowels.”

Eve means to probe on the stress bit, but she has a hard time asking through the fit of laughter that erupts from her throat. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” says Eve.

“Oh, I almost forgot. You may want to take this,” says Irina. She slides one of her books across the table. The front looks like a kid used finger paint and made even strokes of green, yellow, pink, and brown stacked vertically on the cover. It reads _Villanelles: Everyman’s Library Pocket Poets Series._

“It was nice to meet you too, house cat.”

Irina smiles before she turns to shout something in Russian back to her father. Konstantin claps a hand on her shoulder and ushers her out of the room, glaring at Eve the entire time.

Eve glances at the book. Her brow furrows as she looks back to the empty doorway.

“House cat?”

… 

After breakfast, Eve passes by the boardroom with all intentions of going inside. She did want to get some work done, but she thinks of the canoeing activity MI5 will do this afternoon and decides taking a nap would be a better way to spend her time.

It’s nice enough outside on her walk back to the cabin. The overcast is there, but more of the sun pokes through the clouds every hour. There’s a breeze in the air that keeps things just a bit too cool for her liking. She imagines the breeze off the water will feel near-freezing. 

Eve thumbs through the pages of the book Irina gave her, not entirely sure what to make of the gift. It appears to be a collection of poems, but Eve is uncertain of what they mean. The poems themselves are straightforward; yet Eve can’t deduce the meaning behind a villanelle and why Irina would give her a copy of this book. She is far enough away from the community center and her cabin that when she pulls out her phone, she finds that she has no service and can’t look up the meaning behind the words either.

Eve puffs out her cheeks. She slides her phone back into her pocket and puts the book under her arm. Her hand swims around her pocket once more as she pulls out the room key to her cabin. She pauses as she approaches the lodge. 

A glass vase of flowers sits on the step right before the door.

Eve blinks before she groans.

“Jesus, Niko,” mumbles Eve. She picks up the vase of flowers from the doorstep and plucks a white card from the petals. While keying into the room, she reads the note several times over.

_xoxo, baby_

Eve shakes her head, unsure of what Niko is trying to get at. Irritation swells inside her. Romantic gestures between her and her husband were few and far between, and Eve is getting quite tired of entertaining him on this vacation. 

“I can’t believe him…” says Eve, her words dying off as she enters her cabin. 

Her chagrin over the small gift is immediately replaced with wonder as she slowly steps into her cabin. Flowers cover every available surface of the room: the floor, table, wardrobe, windowsill. There are so many vases Eve can’t even count them all. Her forehead wrinkles as she takes in the aroma and petals before her. There’s something eerily familiar about the flowers, but Eve can’t quite place her finger on it.

The note in her hand feels sharp like she could cut herself on it at any time.

_xoxo, baby_

Eve struggles to take in air. Her lungs aren’t expanding enough and her pulse quickens. All of the flora in her room resemble the wildflowers from the field in the forest. With Bill and the bear. With the Huntress.

The card slips from her fingers as if she’s been burnt. The book clatters to the ground as Eve retreats from her cabin, vase still in hand, and she tosses it on the gravel outside. It shatters into brilliant crystals and a mess of stems, petals, and leaves. She breathes in rapid succession, still not able to take in a full breath and feels her lungs heat up.

Eve presses her hands against her mouth to muffle a scream. She’s hyperventilating now and it’s really hard to come down from the altitude of her thoughts. Eve is lightheaded as she shakes her head back and forth.

_xoxo, baby_

And then, time slows. It feels as if the universe fixates on her for a moment as something primal unfurls in her chest. She thinks another scream is bubbling up from her chest, but it comes out as a growl. Something unhinges inside of Eve and she storms back into the cabin.

She grabs two vases in hand, walks back to the entrance, and chucks them outside. They smash against the gravel road much like the first did, except their crystal shards scatter farther on impact. Eve dashes back inside, grabbing three more vases in one swoop of her arm, leaving the other hand free to take each glass piece and shatter it against the earth. When she turns back to her room, it doesn’t even scratch the surface for how much there is left to destroy.

Wildflowers lay in a defeated heap, among shards of their containers, as Eve relentlessly tosses each out of her cabin. She takes in labored breaths, sweat dotting her brow, when she goes to grab the last two glass items. The first one fractures to hundreds of pieces. Eve brings down the final vase when her body freezes. 

The bottle of wine from the window sill is in her hand. Her brain barely registered grabbing it among the other items, so she returns it to its spot in the room before coming back outside to survey her work. It could be confused for an art piece, for how much glass and flowers rests in a heap on the dusty gravel.

Eve taps into whatever primal force sits on her chest and she screams at the debris much like she screamed at the bear. Her throat is sore by the end of it, but it feels like a small weight has been lifted from her shoulders. No one is around to survey her destruction, so Eve turns and goes back into the cabin. The door closes behind her this time. She eyes the note and book on the ground as if they were the enemy, the reason for her episode. 

Eve crawls into her bed, under the covers, and pretends to nap until canoeing. Her body is as taut as a board the entire time.

… 

It is cool off the lake, like Eve imagined, and she feels quite pleased with herself that she brought along a sweater for this particular staff bonding activity. It’s the green cardigan from the stranger in the laundromat, a figure Eve hadn’t give much thought to. All of her thoughts felt too big and too much, especially all thoughts that surrounded that particular stranger and the Huntress. Eve couldn’t ruminate on it because her ideas threatened to puncture her sanity and spill from her head if she wasn’t careful. 

So instead of thinking about anything important at all, Eve sits politely in the canoe as it glides effortlessly over the lake.

“You know, you can help at any time,” says a voice behind her.

Eve scowls, but fixes her face when she turns to look at Frank. He wasn’t her first choice in a canoeing partner, but apparently MI5 had been split up at random beforehand. She was having a hard time deciding if she preferred Niko’s or Frank’s company more. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Konstantin and Carolyn sharing a canoe, so Eve figures it could be worse.

“I was just admiring the scenery,” says Eve, picking up her paddle. She places an oar in the water and makes long strokes through the blue depths. Her arms are already sore and she has no desire to keep up this effort, unless it is absolutely required of her.

And apparently, in this moment, it is required of her.

“Admire it when we get back to shore,” barks Frank.

“You’re not afraid of water, are you?” Eve calls over her shoulder.

“It’s been a while since I swam. But I probably can’t swim well in my condition.”

“Your condition? Frank, don’t you run? Like everyday?”

“It’s power-walking. There’s a difference. And my physical condition is not the one I’m talking about.”

Eve turns to look at him once more and really looks at him. Through his glasses, she can see his eyes are bloodshot and shining with tears. His beard is unkept, scraggly white hairs stick out along the length of his neck.

“I’m in distress,” Frank says calmly. 

Eve faces the front once more to hide her gagging face. She sighs quietly and grimaces at the thought of being stuck with Frank in this canoe in the middle of the lake in the middle of the woods in the middle of his feelings for another hour. 

Frank clears his throat behind her.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Frank asks. “I said I’m in distress.”

“No, I heard you.” Eve’s shoulders drop as she moves the paddle to her lap. She turns to face Frank. “Why are you in distress?”

“Thank you for asking. I can really see that you care, Eve.”

She rubs her temple and considers smacking him with the blunt side of the paddle, but resists the urge. 

“I’m not the best when it comes to all this. You can just ask Niko. Talking about emotions is gross. I never really know what people want me to say.”

“You seem to know what to say when Kenny and Elena are concerned.”

“Well they’re usually not in distress.” Eve bites her lips as she considers her words. “They’re also not a dick-swab to me a majority of the time.”

“I think I’m fair to you. Most of the time.”

“Uh huh.”

Their canoe comes to a stop in the waters as neither of them are paddling now. The rest of MI5 continues on without them.

“You’ve spoken your mind so freely on this trip. Your husband must love that.”

Eve rolls her eyes, losing a bit of her patience. 

“Why are you in distress, Frank?”

“You should treat him better, you know. You’ll never know when you’ll lose him.”

A twinge of guilt passes through Eve when she remembers the death of Frank’s wife this past year. Frank sniffs once and wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

“Gross,” says Eve. Whether she meant Frank’s behavior or his advice about Niko is left to be decided.

“I forgot my handkerchief. Didn’t think I’d need it floating across this shitty lake.”

“Are you not in love with these staff bonding activities?”

“Quite the contrary. I am enjoying them immensely and feel quite bonded to you now because of them,” deadpans Frank.

“You’re an asshat.”

“You’re a tireless think-bucket. And a cunt.”

Eve’s entire body is taut as she rounds on him in the canoe, jostling the small boat as she twists her figure to face him. Their knees brush in the limited space.

“Every moment I’m with you,” says Eve, a sharp edge to her words, “is another moment where I feel so incredibly drawn to your personality. It’s so charming. A lot like getting to know a wet brick. It just drys out and hardens, and what'd ya know? Still a brick.”

“I’ve never liked you. You always think you know what’s going. Think you have some idea of control, but you don’t. You have a boring job, with boring ideas, and a boring personality. Nothing has come from this investigation since you’ve joined and I doubt it will go anywhere with your insight on the case.”

Eve growls. She takes the paddle, scoops it through the lake, and launches a wave at Frank.

He jumps as cold water splashes against his face before he also takes his own paddle and digs it into the surface. Eve was pleasant on this lake, but as water crashes into her face, she is now colder than she wants to be and feels like rolling the canoe just for reasons. Water drips from both of their faces as they lock eyes.

Eve feels her anger slowly dissipate though when she sees tears joining the moisture sliding down Frank’s face. She sighs and places her head, dripping with lake water, in her hands.

“You know, my father had lung cancer. Everyone thought he was going to beat it.” Eve lifts her head to see Frank cleaning off his glasses with his jacket and giving her a disgruntled look. “And then he didn't. And then he died. I remember my mom just sobbing and I had no idea what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just went back to London, got a husband, and started my career.”

Eve laughs lightly at the memory. “The first time I called my mom after he died, I told her that I quit smoking, which I wasn't a chain smoker by any means, but that's not the point. Anyway, I called her and told her that I quit smoking and I expected her-- well, I don’t know what I expected of her. Maybe to be happy? But now that I think about it, of course she started sobbing when I told her. Eventually, she said she was proud of me.”

Eve shakes her head while looking off toward the woods. “But I didn't quit smoking because my dad died of lung cancer. I quit because I no longer had someone to share cigarettes with.” 

Eve shakes her head once more before she turns her full attention to Frank.

“Eve,” Frank says; he sounds tired. “Have you ever done something that you regret?”

“Oh, all the time.”

Frank smirks and Eve smirks, too.

“But have you ever done something you really regret?”

“Sometimes,” says Eve. “I mean, I think I want to get a divorce. So I guess some aspects of my marriage, maybe? But then a load of future regret yet to come after the divorce? Probably therapy, too.”

Frank nods. The surface of the lake is pristine. She can see their reflection in the clear blue depths that lie beneath them. Eve is scared to move because she doesn't want to disrupt this moment or the waters.

After a while, Frank says, “I miss my wife.”

“Yeah, I miss her, too. You were less of a dick when she was alive.”

“And maybe you'll be less of a cunt when you actually divorce your husband.”

Frank takes his paddle then shoves it in the water below. The canoe rocks forward and Eve can no longer see her reflection among the ripples on the surface.

…

Carolyn made a fruitcake for Frank and had packed it along for the canoeing trip. They had crossed the lake within the hour at a leisurely pace, then enjoyed the sun and fruitcake on shore. Carolyn said she slaved away all morning to follow the recipe to the T in order to imitate the Haleton family fruitcake. Frank wolfed down a generous portion, saying it was better than his mum's baking.

Eve watches from afar, participating in neither the fruitcake nor the moment. She sat on the white, sandy shore, clutching her knees to her chest. Niko hadn't tried to initiate any sort of conversation, preferring to chat with Bill instead; they had been canoeing partners. Eve briefly considers if the flowers were actually from Niko, the same flowers which she unceremoniously trashed in front of their cabin, but then reminds herself of the neat handwriting on the note. 

Eve digs her fingers in the pockets of the cardigan sweater, clutching the edges of the firm stationary. She isn’t sure why she brought the note with her, but she did. The fabric on her arms feels both warm and constrictive on the beach, finally dry after the splash mishap on the boat, but there was never a moment where Eve forgot she was wearing it or who it might belong to.

In fact, Eve feels quite distracted the entire afternoon. She has a feeling that she was being watched, but every time she looks to the forest there is no one there. She thinks of the Huntress and her rugged attire, swinging the axe leisurely in her grasp. She thinks of the shit-eating grin and her black eyes. She thinks of the bear, the wildflowers, and Niko’s lame dinner date. She thinks of the woman in the laundromat in her yellow cactus shirt. She thinks of her mouth and hair. She thinks of Natalie’s fingers on her back, and _god_ , Eve is going to lose her mind. 

On the beach, in the warm afternoon under the sun, Eve’s sanity slips. Her thoughts breach their container and tumble from her head, muddling all together into a mess she couldn’t make sense of. Eve really wonders why she isn’t dead. She wonders why they were here. She wonders who this woman is who parades around in a rabbit mask, swinging an axe around in the woods. 

She wonders how Konstantin is involved and why Irina gave her that book. More importantly, Eve wonders about the butterflies in her stomach and how her heart beats faster when recalling all of these incidents.

A branch snaps off to her right and Eve sobers to attention. She scrambles to her feet, only to find no one standing in the woods. Her eyes dart around the trees and brush before her gaze lands on the destined target. She looks around briefly and she shuffles carefully toward the treeline. She steps into the forest to approach one specific tree. Eve’s fingers ghost over a heart etched into the bark and Eve lets out a shaky breath. 

Eve chuckles. She swallows and swallows once more. She can’t believe she’s doing this, but Eve’s fingers travel up to her hair, which she fastened into a bun before canoeing, and undoes her curls. Eve’s mane unfurls, cascading down her shoulders

_Your hair is amazing._

Eve hears her voice in her head, and she desperately wishes to hear it again. But instead she hears:

“You know, I consider you to be a lot of things, but damaging wildlife is never something I’d peg you for.”

Eve’s heart is in her throat when she spins around to face Carolyn. Her boss opted to wear navy pants and a white blouse without sleeves. There’s some frill on the front and a nice bow that Eve never would have pictured on Carolyn, but the look is completed with a fierce shade of red lipstick that ties in a naval feel for her attire. Her hands are in her pockets as she considers Eve.

“It, uh,” says Eve. “It wasn’t me.”

“No? Who do you think it was? The Huntress?”

“I, um…”

“The boys are hoisting the canoes in the racks. Why don’t you come take a stroll with me back to the cabins? If I’m correct, we are near the path where you and Bill took your trek the other day. You’ll be able to navigate these trails like a scout, I’m sure of it.”

Eve follows her boss begrudgingly. Her feet move forward as if they’re filled with lead and she has a hard time keeping Carolyn’s pace.

“Do say that you enjoying yourself on this trip,” says Carolyn. “I thought you were going to have a brain aneurysm had we spent a moment longer in the London office.”

“I’m having the time of my life.”

“There’s no need to be dishonest, Eve.”

Eve winces. “I’m not sure what you want to hear.”

“Don’t tell me what I want to hear. Tell me the truth. It’s always a good place to start.”

Eve sucks in a breath through her nostrils.

“The truth is a good place to start, isn’t it, Carolyn?” 

“Do you feel clever? Do you feel as if you solving some great mystery?”

“I feel like,” says Eve as she considers her thoughts. “I feel like shit. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind. Originally it was because no one was doing their job and now I’m not doing my job, so it really doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Odd how my expectation, as your boss, was for you to relax and enjoy yourself here. You’ve really made a mess of things for yourself, haven’t you?.”

The woods lacked its usual eerie sense with Carolyn. The sun warms their backs and the amber backdrop makes it feel like something from a movie, but instead of any insightful reveal, Eve is just getting reprimanded by her boss. In fact, the trees simply look like trees and the bushes look like bushes. There isn’t really anything menacing about this forest is there?

“Maybe I am going crazy,” mumbles Eve.

“Oh, I don’t want you to think that. When we return from this trip, I hope you’ll be able to find ways to manage your stress better. Perhaps cardio or swimming? Additionally, crazy is such a touchy word; you shouldn’t let it slip so freely from your mouth as you do.”

“Is it a touchy word?”

“Konstantin certainly thinks so.”

“Yes, well, Konstantin is an arsehole.”

“There you go again, giving off your opinions as if they matter or as if anyone is listening. You’ve been quite cynical this entire trip,” remarks Carolyn. “But yes, Konstantin is an arse.”

“Is there history between you two?”

“What gave you that impression?”

Eve opens her mouth, but she shakes her head before she increases her tempo to pass Carolyn.

“Everyone. Literally everyone has been doing that this entire trip. No one will give me a straight answer. It’s always some cryptic bullshit that I have to deduce some truth from. I just want answers.”

“Are you sure?” Carolyn asks. Eve turns around to face her boss, noticing the other woman has stopped walking. With hands still in pockets, she sizes Eve up with her stoic gaze. Eve squints though because the sunset frames Carolyn’s figure, making her appear almost as if she is glowing.

“Yes,” says Eve. “Yes, yes, yes. God, yes.”

Carolyn purses her lips.

“Alright. One could say that Konstantin and I were an item back in the day, and we immeasurably enjoy each other’s company now.”

They continue their walk back toward the cabins. 

“Is he one of your ex-husbands?”

“Ha. God, no. Thankfully, we were two young flames who came into each other's lives at the wrong time. It doesn’t mean we still don’t burn brightly around one another, but one must be careful not to extinguish that passion or the other person.”

“What happened between you two?”

“Well, you’ve met Irina, so that’s about the end of it. Although I do suppose I had Kenny, but I wasn’t seeing anyone at the time. Much of how life happens, I suppose. It just fizzled out. Wrong time, wrong place.”

They’ve made it back to the gravel path that is a direct line to the first six cabins. They pass the axe throwing range and the laundromat. This time Eve does not peer into the glass because she knows she’s not there.

“I think I would like to divorce my husband,” says Eve, much to her surprise for the second time that day.

“Shocking,” says Carolyn. “Nemo? Ned, is it?”

“Niko.”

“Unfortunate. I do hope this trip wasn’t the catalyst? It does sound like your breaking point though. Divorce gets easier the more you do it. Have you broached the subject with him?”

Eve twists her wedding ring. “No.”

“Well, there is never a great time to do it, but you feel exceedingly better after you confess it.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to go through with it though.”

Carolyn gives Eve a sour look.

“Now I’d be really disappointed in you then, Eve. You’re always a woman to speak your mind, and to not confess your feelings is quite the disservice to yourself and those around you.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

Carolyn grimaces. “I don’t think that’s true. Not just for you, but for every relationship. People use that excuse, don’t they? I don’t want to hurt them, but I’ll use them for sex, for their money, for the emotional benefit. I don’t want to hurt them usually means I don’t want to take responsibility for how I’ve already treated them.”

“Did you ever consider becoming a therapist?”

“Oh, heavens no. I don’t have the emotional range to dote on people. My clients would be unnerved throughout the whole session. People love expressive faces, even if those aren’t true either.”

Eve can see her cabin now. She feels surprisingly lighter after talking with Carolyn, yet there is an incessant tug in the back of her mind that won’t leave her alone.

“Would you ever consider living in the woods, Eve?”

“I would rather live with Frank than live in the woods.”

“Good to hear,” says Carolyn with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

They saunter up to her door and Eve feels as if she’s being dropped off from a date, back before ten in the evening. Eve pulls out her key and goes to unlock her door.

“Eve,” says Carolyn tersely behind her. Eve pauses with the key in the lock and turns. Carolyn eyes her for a long moment. Eve wonders if she misheard her, but then Carolyn says:

“There’s a nice system here. A routine. Please don’t ruin it.”

Carolyn nods once to her, to the pile of glass and debris outside the cabin, and then spins around. She marches down the path and Eve can only assume she’s making her way back to her cabin, but then again Eve really isn’t sure about anything more.

… 

A guilty conscience swims in and out of sleep, finding some currents of REM only to be floundered out by the hooks of shame. Eve found herself caught between consciousness and unconsciousness when her eyes flutter open to the stillness of her cabin. It’s dark inside her bedroom except for the occasional flash of blue and red outside of their front window. With the curtains drawn, Eve can’t make out much aside from several figures standing outside.

Niko snores lightly beside her. At every single one of his breaths, Eve feels a weight increase more and more on her chest. The rotation of the red and blue lights continue with muted explanation. When Eve slides out of bed, wearing a simple t-shirt and shorts, she threatens to break the stillness of the evening as she approaches the door. She slides the cardigan sweater over her shoulders and clutches it tightly to her body.

Eve shuffles toward the door slowly. The lock turns by her fingers and she creaks it open just a sliver. Several officers stand outside of the cabin, muttering in Russian so she can’t catch a word.

“What's going on?” Niko asks sleepily from the bed.

Eve opens the door a little more to peer her head out. The officers freeze and she sees Carolyn and Konstantin talking with them. Time slows again that day and Eve turns her head to follow their line of sight.

Her hands clap against her mouth as she stares wide-eyed at the body lying in front of her cabin. Frank Haleton lies slack and pale among the shards of glass and flowers as if the debris is his grave. The lower portion of his body appears mutilated as if ravaged by some wild creature, for below his waistline is a bloody pulp of flesh.

Eve gags once before she has to look away. 

Niko comes to the doorway then. 

“Oh my Jesus Christ,” whispers Niko. 

Carolyn walks up to the two of them. She wears a somber expression.

“Animal attack. A lynx was spotted in the area a few kilometers north where they found the first drops of blood.”

Eve swallows, although she is very certain she is going to throw up because Carolyn is lying. Eve feels her insides turn enough that she bolts from the doorway of her cabin toward the yard off to the right. Her stomach lurches forward, but she just ends up dry-heaving. Niko comes up behind her, but Eve shuffles away. 

And then she’s dashing away and she hears Niko call out behind her. She walks away from the police vehicles, her boss, her husband, Konstantin. She walks away from it all because they’re all too much and they’re all liars. She buries her hands in her pockets and feels the plastic card in her hands.

Eve makes her way to the boardroom at the community center. The door clicks when her access card presses against the scanner. Eve doesn’t turn on the light; instead she goes to stand in front of MI5’s work, in front of the photos and case files taped to the wall. Eve’s eyes dart over the portions of Frank’s work and she pinches the bridge of her nose when she feels the sting of tears collect in her eyes. 

Eve turns and sees Frank’s satchel at the far end of the table. She sniffs once and sits at the chair at the end of the table where it rests. She unclasps the leather bag and peels back the top. Eve hands search expertly for something she’s seen Frank hold before. She unzips the small pocket lining the top of the satchel to pull out a small photo of Frank, his wife, and his children.

Eve brings her hand up to her mouth once more and a tear slides down her cheek.

“Oh, those poor kids,” she mumbles through her fingers.

The silence of the room swallows Eve as she sits in her grief. The stillness of the evening returns and the only source of light comes from the overtly bright path light outside, illuminating the dark room through the window like a slanted box. She sniffs once and rubs her nose on the back of her hand. For Frank.

A breath of hot air exhales against Eve’s thigh and the woman at the table goes rigid. Her mouth hangs open as her brain scrambles to catch up with the moment. There’s a second breath of hot air against Eve’s thigh, followed by a chuckle, and Eve feels and sees the goosebumps rise on  
her skin.

Eve kicks away from the table in the rolling chair, scooting back far enough to see a figure emerge from underneath it. The Huntress stands at her full height after she crawls out from underneath her hiding spot. She wears the mask of a rabbit, but the lower portion of her face is smeared with blood. There’s an axe in the woman’s hands, the blade surprisingly clean of any crimson.

The Huntress holds it horizontally as she approaches Eve, who continues to kick back in her chair until she crashes into the wall. Before she can get up, the Huntress closes in on her and slides the handle of the axe underneath the rungs of the chair, preventing her from getting up much like a demented amusement park ride. But there’s nothing amusing about this moment, despite the shit-eating grin that breaks across the woman’s face with a mouth covered in blood.

The woman cocks her head to the side as she considers Eve.

“Did you not like the flowers, baby?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, folks. Thank you for your patience so far. We're now about to pick up the pace. The outline for the fic is done, so finishing it is a matter of just finding time to write.
> 
> I WOULD REALLY LOVE TO KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS if you feel moved. Otherwise, y'all have a good day.


	5. Chapter 5

The Huntress waits for a response. The handle of the axe pins Eve to the seat, so she can’t move. She can’t breathe. Her body begins to tremble without her permission as she clutches the arm rests with a vice grip, but it does little to stop the shaking. Her stomach does somersaults. Had she not thrown up moments ago, she’s sure she would vomit now.

The Huntress absorbs Eve’s body language and crouches between her legs, axe still firmly pinning her to the seat. The Huntress peers up at her now, and Eve can’t stop looking at the blood smeared across the lower portion of her face.

“Would you prefer talking or not talking during this appointment?” asks the Huntress, easily slipping into a scouse accent.

Eve feels a shiver travel down her spine and she closes her eyes. She shakes her head before exhaling.

The warm breath comes back to her thigh and she feels teeth against her skin. There’s a small nip at her flesh, causing Eve’s eyes to snap open.

“No talking?” The Huntress asks, slipping back into a voice that carries a distinct Russian lilt.

Eve shakes her head once more.

“Yes talking?”

“It’s whatever you prefer,” croaks Eve.

The Huntress smiles. “Oh, no. It’s whatever you prefer, Eve Polastri.”

Eve’s heart is doing wild things in her chest, making it hard for her to get control of her breathing and her thoughts.

“You can talk,” says Eve hoarsely.

“Excellent. Did you not like the flowers?” The woman asks as she rests her chin on Eve’s knee. There’s a distinct pout on her lips that looks rather horrific painted in crimson.

“They were lovely. Just a surprise.”

“Do you not like surprises?”

“I don’t know. Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“Promise?” Eve asks, her voice a whisper.

“Promise,” says the Huntress in the same soft tone.

“Did you kill Frank?”

The woman kneeling before her groans. “Is this really what you want to talk about?”

Eve lets out a shaky breath before she lifts her hands and brings them slowly to the mask on the woman’s face. Blown pupils, with hints of hazel swimming at the edge, stare back up curiously. Eve grips the mask, meeting little resistance when she lifts it.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” The woman asks softly.

Eve nods once, but takes a moment to search for her voice. 

“May I?” Eve asks.

“Yes.” 

Eve lifts the mask off the woman’s face and sets it gently on the ground beside them. The woman is just as beautiful as she remembers. Up close, Eve can see how smooth her skin is and she looks so soft in the somber lighting of the room. Eve’s breath catches as she tries to make sense of these feelings in her chest, coupled with the gruesome evidence on the bottom portion of the woman’s face.

“Who are you?” Eve asks.

“Huge question.”

“Did you kill Frank?”

“He was a rat. He squirmed a lot before I killed him. Did you know he tried to barter off his children to save his life? Pfft, I do not want children.” The woman leans forward, her face closer now to Eve’s lap. Eve feels herself heating up. “Did you see where I did it?”

“My fingerprints are all over those vases.”

“I doubt they will look for evidence. Simple animal attack. It happens all the time,” says the woman with a smirk. She then leans down and nips at Eve’s thigh, causing another trail of goosebumps to travel up her leg.

“You are very receptive to my touch, Eve Polastri.”

Eve’s throat dries. She breaks eye contact with the woman, finding her gaze almost suffocating. There are teeth grazing Eve’s flesh once more before she feels a kiss planted on the inside of her thigh. Eve tentatively looks down, very thankful to see no traces of blood left there.

“Would you like me to stop?”

Eve looks away, brings her thumb to her mouth, and bites the flesh around her nail before she shakes her head.

“What do you want?” Eve manages to get out, her voice hoarse.

There’s a raise in the woman’s eyebrows before she chuckles lightly.

“I want to pursue you.”

The heat that has been building in Eve’s stomach travels down between her thighs, and she’s so certain that she’s going to spontaneously combust.

“What do you mean?”

“People from all over the world come to this resort, but none of them have been as captivating as you. The way you charged at the bear in woods? Oh, you were sensational,” says the woman, beaming as she does.

“What is your name?” Eve asks.

The woman’s face goes blank, all traces of joy disappearing in an instant.

“It changes often, but for now you can call me Villanelle.”

“Is that your real name?”

“What is a real name?” Villanelle asks. “Is it the one you give yourself or the one others give you? What counts as real?” When Eve doesn’t answer, the woman continues, “I’m going to move this, okay? Don’t run. Please.”

The axe slides out from under the rungs of the chair arms. Eve briefly looks at the door before looking back at Villanelle, who sits cross-legged before her with the axe resting neatly on her lap. Eve considers bolting, but the way Villanelle gazes up at her reminds Eve of an act of worship and she feels frozen in place.

“I want to amend our first date,” says Villanelle.

“Our first date?”

“Yes, from the day in the woods, that the bear so rudely interrupted.”

“When you were going to murder Bill?”

Villanelle snorts. “I was never going to murder him. He was not my target, although he did switch rooms with him. I just wanted to see you again and help guide you along the paths.”

Eve feels irritation at the idea of being fucked with and clings to it. Her small inkling of frustration grows, so she tries desperately to hold onto it in order to feel somewhat in control of herself in this situation.

“Do you know how terrifying that was? That wasn’t a date. That was stalking. You almost got us both killed.”

Villanelle’s nostrils flare. “Aren’t you playing the game too, Eve? You wear my sweater. You let your hair down for me and trace the heart I leave behind for you. You let my hands caress your back.”

“Yeah, well, at the time I didn’t know those hands belonged to a psychopath.”

The axe clatters to the ground. Villanelle presses her forehead against Eve’s. A steel grip pins Eve’s wrists to the arm rests and she squirms underneath the burning gaze of the other woman.

“You should never call a psychopath a psychopath,” says Villanelle. “It upsets them.” 

Eve wishes that this woman, this Villanelle, would just kill her because her emotions are shot. Keeping up with the moment is draining Eve of all her energy and more. Eve means to apologize, to say something to calm her down, but her brain refuses to process anything.

“Don’t you count the laundromat?” 

Villanelle searches between Eve’s eyes before she exhales through her nose. The grip on her wrists lessens slightly.

“What?”

“Our first date. You don’t count the laundromat?”

“That is very forward of you to consider it a date, Eve.” The grip on her wrists relaxes fully. Villanelle’s hands slide down Eve’s knuckles before she interlaces their fingers together and she’s crouching between Eve’s legs again. “At this rate, hopefully you will have my blood on your hands instead of that husband of yours for our next date.”

Eve feels her heartbeat in her hands where their fingers connect. Villanelle probably does, too. 

“I would prefer no blood, actually.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Villanelle pouts. “Fine. What would you like to do instead?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Villanelle gives a thoughtful look as her thumbs rub circles over Eve’s knuckles. In their wake, Eve’s stomach decides to take up acrobatics full time.

“I want to draw you. Like how you were lying in those flowers. I want to take you to a field and draw you, but you can’t ruin the flowers this time.”

“Okay.” Eve nods. She’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, but it seems to be the proper response because Villanelle is glowing when she looks up at her.

“Okay, okay.” Villanelle squeezes her hand and bounces on the spot. “Now you. You get to pick our follow-up date.”

“Oh, um…” 

“It can be anything you would like. I could cook for you. We could get ice cream. There’s swimming, or hiking, or I could even borrow the golf cart from Konstantin.”

A ringing starts in Eve’s ear upon the mention of Konstantin. The inexplicable connection between Villanelle and the resort owner is enough to make her head spin. Her thoughts settle like dust to the ground when a clarity for her desires washes over her. The ringing subsides.

“I want to go hunting with you.”

Villanelle’s eyebrow lift slightly. She lets go of Eve’s hands before rising above her.

“If that’s what you’d like.”

“Yes, I want you to show me how you hunt.”

“Alright, baby. I will do that just for you. It is a date then.”

“When?”

“I’ll come find you when all of this is over with your rat problem. Probably after forensics finishes with the body.”

Eve bites her lip.

“Did Carolyn put you up to this?”

“I don’t think you want to know the answer to that.”

Eve exhales. “But would you tell me the truth if I asked you?”

“I will always tell you the truth.”

Her words and lack of physical proximity helps to calm Eve, just slightly. Now standing, Villanelle stretches and brings her hands above her head, resembling a cat in the afternoon sun. Her gaze rests on MI5’s case wall filled with notes and photos. She saunters up to them, hands on her hips, and absorbs the content. Villanelle is so engrossed in the files that she doesn’t see Eve fumble to pick up the axe or approach her.

Eve channels all of her courage into one motion as she brings the axe down. The clap of Villanelle’s palm catching Eve’s wrist echoes throughout the room. Eve becomes intimate with her own casework as her face presses firmly against the wall. She feels the cool blade of the axe against her back and Villanelle’s teeth at her ear.

“Just so you know, it’s rude to sneak up on people. I would prefer a hit to the front than an axe to the back, Eve Polastri. Although, it is much worse when they don’t see it coming.”

“Noted,” grunts Eve, as her cheek mashes against the photo of the late Zhang Wu. The pressure peaks to a point of pain before the body disappears from behind her.

Eve rests her forehead against the wall and sighs. She doesn’t want to turn around because the woman is all too beautiful and all too murderous at the same time, and it is quite disorienting. She thumps her forehead to the photo again when she hears Villanelle behind her:

“I have a wall like this. At home. A murder wall.”

_At home._

_Murder wall._

Eve turns around slowly to see Villanelle staring thoughtfully again at MI5’s work, admittedly mostly Eve’s work, but she doesn’t voice it aloud in this moment because Eve is hung up on the notion of this woman having a place to call home. And, of course, she has a murder wall.

“It’s photos of every target I’ve ever taken care of and the ones I will have the pleasure of seeing soon. I get a gold star after every success. You should come see it some time.”

Eve’s throat is so dry that she wonders if her voice will work. “Have you ever not gotten a gold star?”

“No,” says Villanelle with conviction. “I always take care of my targets.”

Eve nods. She thinks of Frank, of this murder wall, and of throwing up again. But her knees feel weak, so she slides against the wall and comes to a sitting position on the ground instead of dry-heaving for the second time.

“Perhaps this is all too much for one evening, hm? Giving too many details about yourself the first few meetings can really kill the mood. Nobody wants a follow-up date with the person who overshares.”

Villanelle waltzes over to the mask and plucks it from the ground. She slides it over her face, the black veil falling over her shoulders like phantom curls.

“Your killer is a man stationed just outside of Paris, France. He favors his dominant hand, which is his left. The work is a bit sloppy, but it gets the job done I suppose.” Villanelle approaches the table, where she rests the axe against one of the chairs. She scribbles on a post-it. “This is his address.”

Eve furrows her brow and comes up midway between kneeling and a crouch. Her head swivels between Villanelle and MI5’s casework.

“How did you-- Did you glean all that just from this?” 

“Yes,” says Villanelle, not breaking eye contact with Eve. There’s a pause before a smile curls at her lips and she snorts. “Only joking. The gunshot wounds reveal his dominant hand. Everything else came from Frank’s laptop.”

“He knew this whole time?”

“Coworkers are shit, aren’t they? That’s why I work alone.”

“What about Konstantin?”

“Consider him more like a friend of the family. An angry uncle, if you will.”

Eve nods, coming to stand on two shaky feet. Villanelle sets the pen down before she crosses the room in three even strides to stand in front of Eve, whose breath catches in her throat at the proximity of the other woman. For a moment, Eve is convinced Villanelle is going to kiss her, but instead she feels the other woman caress the side of her face and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It was good to see you again,” says Villanelle, now behind the mask. She presses the sticky note into Eve’s hand. “Do not word vomit this all at once. As your friend Bill would say, you’ll sound like a nutter if you do.”

Villanelle winks. She exits Eve’s orbit and grabs her axe before sliding out of the room without a second glance. In the absence of the other woman, Eve has nothing to gravitate to and spirals. The boardroom is a vacuum; there is no air to take in and no one can hear her hysterics.

… 

An emergency meeting among MI5 is held at the ass crack of dawn. Eve did not sleep at all after returning to her cabin, so when there was knocking at her door, she answered it with a body that felt mostly numb. It was Carolyn, of course, and Eve couldn’t even bring herself to feel irritated. Her emotions were sealed off, unreachable by any of the slightest inklings no matter how Eve probed to reach them. She was so cut off from her feelings that when Niko grabbed her hand on the walk to the community center, she allowed it.

Eve squeezes it once before she lets go when they sit down in the boardroom. Eve nearly faints when she sees Kenny grab the chair pressed against the opposite wall, where Villanelle had pinned her down, and roll it back to the table to sit in.

“Mum,” says Kenny. “What’s going on?”

Elena’s eyes dart frantically around the room before she asks, “Where’s Frank?”

“There’s been an attack,” Carolyn begins softly. “Earlier this morning, Frank was mauled by what the police believe to be a lynx. Blood was found north of his cabin, and his body had been dragged a few kilometers south toward the community center. Police examined the scene earlier this morning and will continue to do so later today. We plan to also inform the family soon after this.”

“You’re joking,” says Elena. She chuckles as she looks around the table. “I mean, come on, I know that we’ve joked that this place has murderous vibes, but don’tcha think this is a bit much?”

“I’m afraid,” says Carolyn, taking off her glasses and folding them neatly on her lap, “that this isn’t a joke. Frank Haleton was declared dead at 3:07 this morning and his body was shortly removed from the scene after. We’re making arrangements to get his body back to London.”

Elena clasps a hand over her mouth and shares a look with Kenny, who much like his mother, wears the same expressionless face. His brows are drawn together, the only indicator for the slightest bit of concern he’s feeling.

“What was he doing out of his room?” Kenny asks. He grabs Elena’s hand and gives his mother an even look.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t you think it was odd that he wasn’t in his room that early in the morning? What was he doing on the grounds in the middle of the night?”

“Little is known why Frank was outside of his cabin past the curfew, but police are investigating it.”

“Which we all know will lead to empty answers rather than figuring out why this man was murdered.”

“You’re quite sharp this morning. I see you’re taking after Eve now, hm?”

Eve watches the interaction between mother and son like a spirited tennis match. Upon the mention of her name though, she curls inward. She is too exhausted to defend herself after chatting with Villanelle in this very same room just a few hours ago.

“I just want to point out the obvious that it all seems a bit suspicious.”

“Quite.” Carolyn purses her lips and nods once. “Right, well, I suppose we will just have to read the report then because our stay at this resort has been terminated early. Your plane tickets have been purchased. We have to be out of our rooms by tomorrow morning. We will fly back with the body to London early tomorrow evening. Thank you for your time.”

Carolyn rises from the table and makes her way to the door.

“That’s it then?” Eve asks.

“That’s what?”

“We’re just going to… leave?”

“Well, I don’t know what more you think can be done. We simply can’t undo what’s already happened. That’s not how life works. Now, if any of you need me, I will be in Konstantin’s office.”

The door closes and shakes a bit in its frame before settling. There are equal measures of shock around the table. One of Elena’s hands still covers her mouth while the other holds Kenny’s hand. Kenny is taut and rubs his palm against the bottom of his chin. Julia sleeps soundly in Bill’s arms, but his face is anything but peaceful. His brows hang low over his eyes as he scans every face in the room. Keiko rests her head on his shoulder, whispering reassurances to him. Then there’s Niko; he wears that well-intended, good nurturing husband face.

“Suppose we should go pack then?” Niko asks.

_I want a divorce._

Tears slide down Eve’s cheeks. She keeps her gaze away from Niko, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. Because it’s wildly inappropriate to say you want a divorce after one of your coworkers was murdered on a work vacation.

Eve stands, her chair sliding back a few feet. All eyes are on her as she approaches MI5’s wall of photos and casefiles. She sniffs once, the tears moving more freely down her face, as she takes in their work over the past year.

“That’s it then,” Eve parrots her words from earlier. Her fingers caresses the papers taped to the wall before her hand swings down. She tears files off the wall left and right, capturing much of the same frenzy she had when throwing those vases out of her cabin. She’s crying harder than she has in a long time, but most disturbing is that she can’t quite figure out why. Kasia Molkovska lies in three pieces. Cesare Greco sits in two rolls of crumpled paper. Witness accounts about discovering Carla de Mann’s body in the women's restroom are shredded one, two, three times before a hand catches Eve’s.

Elena’s cheeks are wet with tears as she nods once before letting go of Eve’s hand. Eve understands and they both start tearing away at MI5’s wall. The debris on the ground is not as grand or as satisfying as the broken vases. In fact, there’s a certain hollowness that fills Eve when she stares at it.

“That’s it then,” says Elena, breathing heavily once they’re finished. Kenny rises from his seat and comes to join them as does Bill after giving Keiko the baby.

“That’s it then,” agrees Kenny.

“It is finished,” mumbles Bill. 

Each of them drape their arms over the others, Bill standing by Eve, Eve standing by Elena, Elena standing beside Kenny. They embrace as they look at the shredded remains on the ground.

“Good bye, Frank.”

… 

“Eve. Eve! Will you wait up? Don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“Talk about what?”

“Frank? Him dying? His body outside of our cabin?”

“What is there to talk about, Niko? Frank’s dead.”

“Now hang on--,” says Niko. He grabs Eve’s arm and twists her on the spot. Eve yanks her arm away and bares her teeth.

“What? What do you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to check in with you. You seemed pretty upset back there.”

“You’re right. I was.” Eve nods then shrugs. “And now? I feel fine.”

“Do you? You’ve been saying that this whole trip. Your coworker died less than twelve hours ago and you say that you’re fine?”

Eve balls her fists and clenches them so tightly to her chest. 

“Yes, I do. I say that I’m fine because if I say anything more it would be a lie and if I say anything less, I will lose my goddamn mind.”

“So lose it then,” bellows Niko. “Show me something. Show me that you care and that you’re not just some freak obsessing over work. Obsessing over killers.”

The slap ricochets off the trees. There’s a stinging in Eve’s palm and a reddening starting on Niko’s cheek.

“How's that for showing? Was it enough?” Eve asks quietly. “I can do you one better though. I want a divorce.”

Niko tries to hide his surprise, but Eve swears that his mustache bristles three times its usual size.

“What do you mean?”

“This marriage of ours isn’t good. It hasn’t been good for a long time. I don’t think either of us are getting what we need from it. At least I’m not, so I would like to get a divorce, Niko.”

Eve exhales before she turns to continue toward their cabin. Niko grabs her wrist once more and yanks her back to face him. When she takes her hand from him, she shoves Niko hard. He nearly topples over.

“If you grab me like that one more time, I swear to God I will…” says Eve, letting her sentence drift off as she measures him with a steely gaze.

“You’ll what? Kill me? Hurt me? Give me another bloody nose?” Niko rests his hands on his hips before he rubs a hand over his whole face. “Don’t you think we should at least talk about this?”

“Jesus, Niko. You always ask that question, but what is there to talk about?” Eve laughs while looking around the forest. “Haven’t we already tried talking for years? Are either of us listening to one another?”

“So you admit you’re at fault for some of this?”

“Is that what you want me to say?”

“Yes, because you never own up to anything in your life. Ever.”

“Yes,” says Eve. She chuckles before hysterics consume her chest. “Yes, part of this bad relationship is my fault. I’m a bitch. And a cunt. And work-obsessed. Oh, poor Niko. Stuck with Eve and she’s so mean to him.”

“Are you able to be serious about anything?”

“Frank just died. Tragically. Why should I be? Why should I be serious about anything when life is so painful?”

“Because I need you to be. I need you to be serious for me and with me. We can try counseling when we get back home.”

Eve shakes her head slowly. 

“I’m not going back to London. I’m staying here. I have to go now.”

“Go where?”

“On a date.”

Eve makes it back to the cabin shortly after. The crunch of gravel behind her tells her that Niko has followed her, but he doesn’t come into the cabin with her. Eve freshens up in the bathroom and changes into day clothes. Once satisfied, she exits the cabin to see Niko sitting on the steps. No words are shared between them. Niko floats into the cabin and Eve walks towards the woods.

Eve has a vague idea of a destination in mind. There’s a feeling she’s counting on, rather than any sound logic. She walks along the path toward the laundromat, hoping that it won’t be empty when she arrives. There isn’t any proof behind the idea of Villanelle being there; rather Eve is relying on a feeling, a feeling she experienced in the boardroom this morning and while walking back to her cabin. That she was being watched. That Villanelle was close by. 

Eve freezes. Her expectations crash into reality when she sees Villanelle sauntering toward her. She wears a sheer, pink, long-sleeved blouse and jean shorts that reveal a dangerous amount of skin. Eve can see how toned her muscles are as she approaches, the way her calf flexes with each step. Surprisingly, she’s wearing boots. She’s the picture of a normal, young woman and it feels so surreal that Eve’s head spins.

In one hand, she drapes a bag and stool over her shoulder and in the other she holds what appears to be a wrap or a burrito. She takes a generous bite and chews.

“Hello Eve,” says Villanelle, mouth still full. “Do you want a bite?”

“What is it?”

“A burrito.”

“No thank you.”

“Suit yourself. There’s another one in the bag if you would like. Were you coming to find me?”

“Yes.”

“Ohhh. Now who’s stalking who?”

“Can we just get this over with?”

“You’re really bad at flirting, you know. But that’s okay. I will pick up your slack.”

“Ha. Thanks.”

“Of course. Anything for you, baby.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“What? Do you not like it? We can think of another pet name for you? Maybe love? Or cherub? Not a pumpkin though. And definitely not honeybunch.” Villanelle takes another generous bite out of her burrito as she gives Eve an innocent look.

“You’re a little creepy.”

“I prefer the phrase well-researched.”

“What else do you know about me?”

“Ah, tsk. That’s not how we play the game, Eve. Take a walk with me.” Villanelle starts down the path and Eve finds it pretty easy to keep with her pace.

“Do you… Do you call me house cat?”

“What? No?” Villanelle has wide eyes before she lets out a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl. “Was it Konstantin? Is he telling those shit stories to the campers? I’m going to start putting laxatives in his tea again.”

“Um, no. It was his daughter. Irina.”

“Oh, you’ve met her?” Villanelle pouts. “Konstantin doesn’t let me spend time with her.”

“Why?”

“Well, he hasn’t let me around the house since I bit off two of his wife’s fingers. But she’s a cow and she deserved it.”

“Oh.” Eve finds herself balancing between morbidity and humour, a fine line between the two, but one that helped to keep her sanity if she balanced it just right. “And why did she deserve it?”

“Because Konstantin said he would never be as good of a cook as long as she still had hands. I was just trying to help even the playing field for him.”

_You’re insane._ Eve chuckles to herself because nothing else seems appropriate.

“Why is that funny?”

Eve sobers quickly under Villanelle’s gaze, and says, “Why isn’t it funny?”

“A woman lost two fingers. Try to be sensitive, Eve.”

“Yeah, well, you killed a man this morning, so compared to that, it’s a little funny.”

“So you admit that I am funny?”

“I admit that you are something. I’m still trying to figure it out though.”

Villanelle hums to herself before a comfortable silence falls over them. Eve crosses her arms and eyes Villanelle as they continue forward. She just can’t quite get over how normal Villanelle appears in this moment. From her clothes to her hair to her overall appearance, they’re all so ordinary. A facade. However, everything that comes from her mouth puts Eve’s axis on a tilt, reminding her of who this woman is and what she’s capable of. Villanelle pulls them off the path toward an open field.

“This is good enough,” says Villanelle. She deposits the stool on the ground and pulls a drawing pad out of the bag. She also pulls a bundle of flowers, looking to Eve expectantly.

“Um. What would you like me to do?” Eve asks, rubbing her neck.

Villanelle rests all of her items on the stool and approaches Eve. The height difference is dizzying and Eve has trouble looking anywhere but Villanelle’s mouth.

“Can I let down your hair?” Villanelle asks.

“Go for it,” mumbles Eve.

Villanelle appears almost in a trance when her hands move up to Eve’s curls. Her nails graze Eve’s head gently, before Eve feels two tugs and her hair falls around her shoulders. Villanelle’s mouth hangs open slightly while absorbing Eve’s appearance. The wide eyes and innocence about her face is just as dizzying and Eve tries to recall when there was blood on her mouth because she keeps forgetting the danger in these soft hands, those sharp teeth, and those cat-like eyes.

“Would you lie on the ground?”

“I suppose.”

Eve crouches and falls back on her palms before sitting on the grass fully. She checks behind her once then lies back against the ground gingerly

“Lift your head?” Villanelle asks. Eve does and her hair is pulled from underneath her and spread evenly to frame her face. Villanelle grabs the bundle of flowers, sliding the stems through Eve’s dark tresses. The sun warms Eve’s face, so she closes her eyes while Villanelle does her work.

“So… tell me about yourself,” says Eve lamely.

“You’re bad at making conversation, too.”

Eve opens her eyes and sees Villanelle rolling up her sleeves. There’s a faint trace of a rash on both arms. Villanelle’s fingers graze it lightly before she sits in the stool with a pad and pencil.

“What’s wrong with your arms?”

“Eve, you can’t just ask what’s wrong with someone’s arms. That’s rude.”

“Is your skin irritated?”

“Yes. A bad splash of poison ivy I’m afraid.”

“Did you get it while picking flowers?” 

“Yes. Now are you ready for me to draw you?”

“I guess? What do you want me to do with my face?”

“Try to move it as little as possible. If you want to give me bedroom eyes though, you’re more than welcomed to. Ah, yes. That look is perfect.”

Eve glares at her from the ground, but chooses to close her eyes instead of taking in that shit-eating grin.

“Did you teach yourself how to draw?”

“You can learn anything on the internet nowadays.”

“Is that where you learned how to kill people?”

“Nope,” Villanelle answers while popping the ‘p.’ Eve’s eyes creak open to see her make wide strokes with the pencil against the pad. “That was mostly self-taught with a little help from Konstantin and my father. A natural talent.”

“You consider killing to be a natural talent?”

“Don’t you?”

“I guess,” says Eve, opening her eyes fully and giving a thoughtful expression, “I never thought about it that way.”

“Have you ever killed someone, Eve?”

“No. God, no.”

Villallenelle brings the paper closer to her face as she concentrates to shade something in. There’s a focused look in her eye that seems all too serious for the given situation.

“Would you like to?”

“How long have you lived in the woods?”

“That didn’t answer my question. Hey, don’t turn your face.”

Eve moves her head to the position it was in before.

“No, I have no desire to kill anyone.”

“Suuuuuure.”

“Do you have any other talents besides murder?” Eve asks desperately trying to change the subject. 

“I’m really good in bed. You should give me a try sometime.”

Eve feels her face heat up, this time not from the sun, so she lifts her gaze to the clouds.

“How do you even hook up with people? Is there a dating website for people who just live in the woods? Is it called Timber?” 

Villanelle winces visibly and gives Eve a pitiful look. 

“You should really let me make the jokes.”

“What? I thought it was funny.”

“You thought. Doesn’t mean it was. And people come here all the time ready to release some sexual tension. It’s pretty easy if you know how to use your words.”

“How do you-- Not everyone speaks English. How do you hook up with someone if-”

“I know a lot of languages.”

“How many?”

“Enough languages, Eve.”

Eve rolls her eyes before yawning once. The afternoon sun coupled with the sleepless night makes the possibility of a nap sound delightful, but she fights against her drooping eyelids to keep tabs on Villanelle.

“What language is your favorite?”

“It used to be French, but I think I’m more into English now.”

“Was French your favorite because it’s the language of love?”

“All languages are love languages if you know how to use them.”

It’s not said with an ounce of sarcasm, but rather stated matter-of-factly. Eve has nothing smart to retort with, so she instead runs her fingers through the grass. She pulls up tufts of it from time to time.

“How long-” another yawn, “do you think this will take?”

“About another hour, maybe?”

“Okay.”

Eve doesn’t know when she falls asleep, but it happens swiftly and without her permission. She becomes aware of the sun first before she hears the tear of paper coming off the pad. There’s the swoosh of the bag as well as some more rustling before she feels another presence lie beside her. For the first time, she’s able to take in Villanelle’s perfume. It carries notes of something both sweet and somber.

She keeps her eyes closed for a few more moments before she lifts her arms above her head to stretch. Her shoulder pops as well as several places in her lower back before her eyes flutter open.

“Hi,” Eve whispers.

Villanelle is lying on her side, hands tucked underneath her head, as she watches Eve. 

“Hi,” she says softly.

“Did you finish your drawing?” Eve asks. She sits up to see the drawing pad closed and flipped over. The backside, which has a black cardboard binding, sits in the sun with a burrito wrapped in tin foil on top of it. Eve is mildly impressed at the attempt to warm the food.

“Yes, I did. Would you like to see?” Her voice is giddy and reminds Eve of a child. Eve nods though, holding her breath as Villanelle reaches for the drawing. When she flips it over in her neat fingers, Eve exhales abruptly.

The parchment is filled with an obscene amount of circles and aggressive lines. Some areas appear darker than others where she pretended to shade in different sections. It looks likes an art piece a child would produce, one which the parent would hang on the fridge begrudgingly.

“Are you kidding me?” Eve asks. She grabs the flowers and starts to tear the from her hair. “Did you have me sit in this dumb field for nothing?”

“You said you wouldn’t ruin the flowers,” Villanelle whines.

“Yeah, well, you said you knew how to draw.”

“I did not. I said I wanted to draw you. I never said I knew how to draw. A bonus was that I got to watch you sleep. I did not know you trusted me that much, baby.”

Eve’s mouth hangs open, but the indignation she feels dissipates faster than she would like it to.

“You’re insane.”

Villanelle pretends to not hear Eve as she moves to flip over the foiled burrito warming in the sun on the back of the drawing pad.

“God. I can’t believe you,” says Eve. She moves to stand up and sees Villanelle stare up at her with a blank expression.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“But what about your part of the date?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you want me to show you how to hunt?”

“Oh, I suppose I did. I’m assuming you actually know how to do this one… since you’ve, you know. Killed things before.”

Villanelle’s delicate fingers pick up the foiled burrito before tearing it open. Eve can see steam rise off of it slightly. A smile curls over Villanelle’s face when she looks back up.

“What?” Eve asks.

“Did you want me to show you how to hunt animals or humans?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My work schedule and writer's block are the biggest bullies, but my good pal Sigaroo is my hero. Thank you for editing my work.
> 
> Your thoughts on the chapter are valued and I enjoy reading every single one. Hope you guys have a good day. Y'all are cool.
> 
> @plaidsuits on the twitter


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